Army of the Night
by notmanos
Summary: Powerful old enemies of Bob abduct him to a hostile dimension, and it falls to Logan to save him.
1. Part 1

Disclaimer:The character of Wolverine & the X Men is owned by 20th Century Fox and Marvel Comics.No copyright infringement intended. The characters of Angel are owned by 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy.Bob remains mine.                                                           

N.B.: Takes place shortly after the "X Men" movie, and "WOC". 

    ARMY OF THE NIGHT 

Bondi Beach,Australia 

    It was a beautiful day-the sky as clear and blue as a sapphire,the ocean a deeper blue,like lapis lazuli,with large waves curling up from the deeps and collapsing harmlessly before they reached the golden crescent of sand of the beach-when it seemed like all hell broke loose. 

Out on the promenade,a wooden boardwalk full of cafes and trendy stores that mimicked the overall curve of the beach on the North end of the crescent,it was first thought to be an earthquake. 

A small trembling at first,noticeable only to rollerbladers sent sprawling by the sudden shifting of stable ground,small black cracks on the weatherproofed surface suddenly growing into fissures,the wood cracking explosively,with far more force than the slight tremors would suggest. 

Then the things appeared. 

They seemed to shoot out of the newly forming chasm in the ground,a dozen slender men as pale as milk,it looked like they were wearing black clothing,except it flowed around them like smoke,constantly shifting and moving as they did,and shading their heads from the aggressively bright sun. 

People began to scream and run as the men started to grab the people closest to them and simply pull their heads off like caps off a bottle,the headless corpses falling to the promenade and staining the wood with their blood.The strange men didn't walk but seemed to glide,and while they had arms and the ebony fog gave them the approximation of a human torso,they had no lower bodies-no legs,no waist-and their hands were simply gnarled claws of bone.Those close enough to see their faces described them as narrow as blades and devoid of almost all features,except for lipless mouths crammed full of needle like black teeth and wide set, tangerine sized eyes that were empty,bloody holes in their heads. 

And yet none of the surviving witnesses noticed the man in the white suit standing by the now abandoned juice bar,eating a sandwich and watching the carnage with a growing smile on his face. 

Also,no one really noticed the surfer,who'd been chasing waves off Bondi,come in from the beach.He was simply there,dripping wet at the end of the boardwalk,surfboard held up on one end beside him.Everyone remembered the "surfie" as handsome,and his board as very weird ( red with black stripes,it had a large skull on it with a big red nose and a feather boa,encircled by the words "Dead Clowns Squirt No Seltzer".No one knew what the hell that was about).He was wearing what everyone agreed to be the ugliest surfing shorts they'd ever seen-long neon green and yellow shorts with horseshoes and four leaf clovers on them.But almost no one could agree on his hair color (some said it was brown,others said it was blond,and some said it was both),or what it was he wore around his neck:although shirtless and barefoot,he wore a necklace with a green pendant.Some said it was tear drop shaped,or a shark's tooth,or a four leaf clover,following through with the theme set by his shorts.Only one person correctly guessed the pendant was a small,carved jade elephant. 

The smoke clad wraiths streaked towards the man,who didn't react at all."You're dead,"he said,in an off hand,blase manner. 

The wraiths let out screams that shattered glass for meters around the boardwalk,and they seemed to dissolve into swirls of grey smoke that dissipated in the off shore wind. 

The man began walking towards the chasm,that was now bleeding a pale blue fire into the air, and said,"Close." 

The fire seemed to withdraw inside the gap before the ground seemed to heal itself shut,the boardwalk included;the wood knitting itself back together like it was alive.Only broken windows,headless corpses,gallons of blood,and ancillary cracks remained of the first assault.  
For a moment,the surfies bare feet slapping on the wood was the only sound,save for the distant,constant roar of the ocean."You're a complete moron,aren't you?"He said to the man in the white suit. 

Only then did anyone else notice him. 

He was described as "looking a lot like that bloke in the J. Crew catalog",which cleared nothing up.The best that could be said was he was blandly handsome,with a sort of airbrushed look to his skin:square jawed,slender,hair covered by a white Panama hat that matched his vanilla suit.  
Something was 'wrong with his eyes',but no one could say exactly what. 

The man chuckled,and put down his sandwich on the counter of the juice bar.Someone thought there were maggots squirming between the slices of bread."Me?You're the idiot who walked into a trap." 

"Not a very good trap.You really think your aseraphim can do anything to me?Or you,for that matter?" 

The man cocked his head,studying him curiously."Still hangin' with these creatures,huh?Do you still call yourself Bob?" 

"I like it.It's concise and to the point." 

"You think you're gonna kill me this time?" 

"Yeah,I do.You should have returned to my back yard with more potent back up,Ceph." 

"Actually,I did." 

It was then a coffee kiosk on the left side of the promenade seemed to explode,and huge black tentacles-at least sixteen feet long and eight feet thick-slithered out of the huge hole where the espresso shop used to be.The thing made a noise that wasn't quite audible to human hearing, but several dogs and sea birds suddenly dropped dead,and everyone within a half mile radius became violently ill.Except for the man in the white suit,and the nonchalant surfie. 

"You stupid,amoral prick.An Old One?"The surfer called Bob said,seemingly unconcerned that one of the thick black tentacles had wrapped around his legs."You know I ain't having this in my dimension." 

"This isn't your dimension,Bob.But I think it's time you moved a little closer,don't you?" 

It was then that they all disappeared:the tentacled thing,the surfer,and the guy in the white hat, leaving only bodies and a huge hole in the promenade where the coffee shop used to be. 

No one knew what to think of any it.But everyone was willing to believe it was all part of some new t.v. show. 

    1 

    He knew almost instantly that he was asleep and dreaming,but he wasn't completely sure he wanted to wake up. 

As always,Logan's dreams were sensory explosions:scent,smell,taste,sight (of course) and feel.But this time he wasn't in agonizing pain,being torn apart in slow motion by suited men with scalpels and bone saws. 

No,this time he was in a strange bed,softer than the one he knew himself to really be sleeping in  back in the real world,laying on his left side,facing a wall where a small window was covered with a rice paper shade,and a pretty but austere pen and ink drawing of a crane wading in a koi filled pond was hanging just below and to the right of a blue and green neon palm tree,which cast colorful shadows on a hardwood floor. 

He wasn't alone either.Far from it. 

A woman was sleeping nestled up against him,her breasts pressed up against his back,one of her smooth legs stretched between his,arm draped loosely over his abdomen.He could feel her slow,warm breathing in the hollow between his neck and shoulder,and knew it was Mariko.He didn't know how he knew;he just did. 

He'd been here,in this room,before.Last time there was no neon palm tree on the wall,giving the darkened bedroom a sense of whimsy.Last time,he had turned over to have a look at Mariko- see her as something else beyond a still photograph on a grave marker-and instantly woke up, almost falling out of his bed in the real world.His mind wouldn't let him see Mariko,probably because it didn't remember her.It recalled the feeling of her,the warmth,her smell,and apparently a new detail or two,as long as enough time was allowed to lapse between dreams. But because it was a dream,and he recalled so little,he didn't know how much of this scenario he could trust. 

If he was to be perfectly honest with himself,probably none.But he so badly wanted to believe... 

Such as the neon palm tree.He suddenly knew how they got it.A tacky restaurant-catering to the American tourist and serviceman crowd-went out of business,and what it couldn't sell it threw out.The neon palm tree was one of the items doomed for the landfill,but Mariko liked it. "How ugly is this?"She said,laughing."Oh,I have to have this." 

"Like me?"He replied. 

She elbowed him lightly in the ribs."You're the handsomest guy I know.Under all that hair." 

"Ha."He remembered putting his arms around her waist,holding her as she leaned back against him affectionately."It's a good thing I'm a tolerant person." 

That made her laugh.She had a lilting,musical laugh. 

Was it her voice,though?He thought it was.He thought he could feel her against him,smell her hair (almonds),but he could not recall her face,even though he knew from the photograph what she looked like.It was a blank spot in his mind- 

(You can't remember because you shouldn't remember.) 

-and he didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Part of him wanted to wake up and leave this place,this torture that was part memory and part wishful thinking (and he would never know which was which),but another part of him never wanted to leave.Maybe all of time travel was memory,and if he could force it,remember hard enough,maybe he could go back.Maybe he could warn himself,and her- 

Warn her of what?What happened to her? 

He knew she was dead.He knew she was murdered.But that was really all he knew.He knew Bob was sitting on certain details about her death that were not reported in the official records, and he didn't know why,except...he didn't want to know why. 

He was such a fucking coward.He was afraid to know.He was afraid to look it hard in the face. Because all he could remember was it hurt so much if he looked at it again it might break him. Again. 

He ran his fingers over her arm,feeling her soft skin,and wondered what could be so bad his mind just shied away from it.He wished it would shy away from vivisection,from the million and a half tortures he had suffered in his life,but no.Still,did the memories of them leave him feeling breathless,like he'd just taken a wrecking ball to the the sternum and couldn't stand,nonetheless breathe?Because that's exactly what happened when he saw Mariko's grave,saw her picture, and even thinking about her was enough to make him feel like he might have a panic attack. 

Coward.That's what it came down to.He had failed to protect her,had simply failed her,and now he couldn't bear to look at her. 

No-it wasn't her.It was what she represented:the greatest failure in a life full of failures. 

She stirred,and he felt her hair tickle his back as she shifted position,and he thought he heard her mutter something.He told himself not to ask,but he did anyways."What?" 

"What time is it?"She repeated,words still slightly slurred by sleep. 

He glanced around for a clock on his side of the room,and didn't see one.But he could tell from the lack of light around the edges of the window blind,"It's dark." 

"Light dark or dark dark?" 

A weird question that suggested he had answered that way many times before."Dark dark." 

"Hmm."She rubbed her forehead against the back of his neck,settling back into sleep. 

He wondered if he loved her.He must have,to have slaughtered a big chunk of the Tokyo underworld for her. 

No,he did it for himself.He lost her,so he decided to make others hurt.That sounded like him.  
But did she love him?They were married for about a year,according to what Bob could find,so it probably wasn't a spur of the moment decision they regretted when sobriety came back in. 

"Do you love me?"He heard himself ask,much to his horror.He was just thinking it!How the hell did he say it?! 

He hoped she wouldn't answer,or he'd wake up first.But she said,voice still muffled with sleep, her breath a caress on his skin:"Always." 

He wished she hadn't answered. 

He woke up feeling terrible.At least it wasn't a screaming nightmare,but frankly he probably would have preferred it if it was.They never left him feeling hollow;they just left him furious. 

Logan just knew this day was going to be remarkably shitty. 

** 

    Once he showered and got dressed,he came out of his room just in time for Kitty to make a noise of alarm and run right through him-literally.Rather than run straight into him,she phased and went through,which was one hell of a weird feeling.It was like a tepid breeze had blown right through him,and when he looked at her,she looked a little wide eyed and stunned,making him wonder if she'd ever phased through someone before,or if this was the first time for both of them. 

"Sorry Mr. Logan,"she said,returning to solidity and continuing down the hall."Mr. Summers gave us the okay to go into town,but if I'm late I bet John and Rogue are going to take off without me." 

He frowned at her.How often did he have to tell the kids not to call him "Mr. Logan"?It made him feel a thousand years old."Only use 'em if you have to,"he said,deciding he wasn't going to chide her about the "Mr." now.Kitty was the most polite kid he had ever met,making him wonder what kind of repressive home life she had before she ended up here.But at least she wasn't bad as 'Clops-yet.If old one eye had his way,though,she would be. 

It seemed to take her a moment to realize he was talking about her-their-powers.It was what he generally told the kids in his self-defense class,although he was torn about it.It was best for them,in today's world,not to make it obvious they were mutants.But on the other hand,why did they have to hide it?Of course,if Scott had his way,they wouldn't use them ever,until they got older or something.Who the hell knew his reasoning.But it proved 'Clops had learned nothing from his brief time in the hands of the Organization.Age was of no concern to the bad guys. 

She finally got it,and nodded."I will." 

He nodded,worried more about John and Rogue.There were loose cannons.But if Kitty and-he was assuming,but it was a good guess-and Bobby were with them,they could probably act as a stabilizing force,and they wouldn't get in too much trouble.If old tight ass actually gave them the okay,that had to be the reasoning. 

Kitty gave him a polite smile,and then stopped backing down the hall and continued running full tilt,and rather than turning into the connecting hall,she went right through the wall,taking a short cut to the garage. 

That reminded him it was Saturday,as close to a day off as there was around here.It was a relief in a way,except that meant if he didn't split soon someone would probably find something for him to do.Well,in theory:it's not like he took orders. 

He wanted to just grab his bike and go,but it wasn't quite afternoon yet,and he'd never find an open bar in the vicinity.And he was hungry,or maybe it was just random acid eating a hole in his gut (a hole that would seal itself,so why care),but he thought he could swing by the kitchen and get something to eat before he drove off to...well,somewhere.Anywhere but here. 

He must have slept through the general Saturday morning madness,as the usual din was a dull roar.There were some kids still clustered in the front lounge,the t.v. blaring away,and from the shouts and taunts of derision he guessed some were playing a video game.He could hear some out back too,on the grounds,and tried not to hear.There were some days-many;most,in fact- where it didn't pay to hear so well. 

The kitchen was thankfully empty when he entered it,and you could tell the kids had been through because it looked like a small hurricane had preceeded him.There were dirty bowls and plates on every stainless steel surface,discarded cups,empty and half empty boxes of cereal and milk,and the smell of slightly burnt food (mainly toast,with an eggy breakfast sandwich follow up) heavy in the air.He knew Scott would probably have a tizzy,but this was normal kid stuff,and as long as no one expected him to clean it up he thought it was nice to see. 

There was some coffee going-for the 'adults' only (but he knew some of the kids stole some- and the kids now knew they could steal it in front of Logan,because he honestly didn't care if they drank coffee or not)-but he wasn't in the mood;caffeine did nothing for him anyways. 

He looked in the industrial sized refrigerator,hoping that a beer suddenly materialized overnight,but no,that never happened (where was Ganesha when he needed him?),so he grabbed a slice of leftover pepperoni pizza and a soda to wash it down with.It would have to do until he could get a real drink. 

He wasn't even completely out of the fridge when he sensed someone enter,and he knew exactly who before he even shut the door and turned around. 

"You can't be having that for breakfast,"Jean remarked disapprovingly. 

He scowled at her,setting the pop on the counter so he could open it without getting any on his pizza."You think it matters if I have a balanced diet or not?"He replied."Half of it is beer." 

She frowned right back at him,running a hand through her hair as she observed the kitchen chaos.She was wearing a green sweater and a long black skirt,her hair back in a ponytail,and she must have been doing something because she was wearing her glasses,and yet somehow she still looked very good.Telekinetic perk?"Which I don't understand.You say alcohol doesn't affect you,and yet beer tastes terrible,so why drink it?" 

"Cheap beer tastes terrible.Some beers taste good.I'll buy you one sometime." 

She shook her head."It's a good thing you heal fast,because I don't think your liver would have survived otherwise.Oh god,look at this mess." 

"They're kids.They make messes."He knew,even though he was sure Jean couldn't hear them,  
that there were kids in the attached dining room,and since he was in no mood for company he found a clean spot on the counter and hopped up on it,sitting there to eat his pizza. 

This made Jean scowl at him,but then she threw up her hands in defeat.She knew there was no arguing with him (although it rarely stopped her from trying). 

"Yes,but they can also pick up after themselves,Saturday or not."She went to one of the cupboards,took down a blue ceramic mug,and crossed to the coffee maker.As she poured herself a cup,he asked,around a mouthful of crust."You can't be having that for breakfast." 

The look she gave him could have exploded his head if she was using her powers,and he couldn't help but chuckle sardonically. 

"It's not polite to talk with your mouth full,"she snipped,trying to hide the fact that she was emptying an awful lot of artificial sweetener packets into her cup.Oh yeah,that was healthy.  
He thought of a nasty response,but he wasn't looking for a war this early in the day,so he kept it to himself. 

After a moment of heavy silence,she asked,"Did you see the paper this morning?" 

He gulped down half the soda-this was a particularly greasy pizza,but not too bad-then said, "Nope.Has the government finally announced it's going to kill all us dirty mutant motherfuckers yet?" 

She turned back to face him,cradling the mug in her hands.she gave him a sour look for the language,but since it was just them in here she let it go."No,it seems there was an earthquake in Australia yesterday." 

"Australia gets earthquakes?" 

She could only shrug."It seems it ruptured a gas line,and caused an explosion that killed several people and sickened many others.Since it was near Sydney,I found myself wondering if Bob could have had something to do with it." 

"Bob?Why?I mean,blowin' stuff up is hardly his style." 

"Except in Camp Lejune,and that lab up in Alberta-" 

"Lejune was a self-destruct;Bob had nothing to do with that.And technically me and Helga blew up Eden's lab in Alberta."Alex helped too,but he thought he'd leave her out of it.Jean would expect such outrageous behavior from him and Helga. 

From the rather disappointed look she gave him,he was right about that."I should have known." 

"What blew up,anyways?Did they say?" 

"A coffee shop." 

Logan laughed and almost choked on a piece of pepperoni."Well,I don't blame him if he did blow it up." 

Her scowl deepened,bringing forth hidden lines on her face."Logan,be serious." 

"I am.Look,just 'cause it happened in Australia doesn't mean it had anything to do with Bob." 

"I thought you said that's where he was going to." 

"Yeah,but since when does Bob stay anywhere for long?He's kinda everywhere and nowhere at once." 

She sighed,apparently giving up on what must have been a well considered conspiracy theory."I suppose." 

Although he had his own reasons for disliking him,he had to ask:"Why don't you like Bob?" 

She grimaced,clearly not wanting to answer the question."It's not like I don't like him-I just don't trust him." 

"He's never hurt us."He had a vague sense that one of the reasons Jean didn't trust Bob was because she thought he might be using him...he was pretty sure he had a better idea of what she thought when he was in Bob's head,but strangely enough,he could barely remember it now. Maybe not so strange,since he was lucky to remember anything at all. 

"Not that we know of,"she replied,then rolled her eyes at his skeptical look."Look,I find it hard to trust someone who won't trust us.We hardly know a thing about him." 

"He's insane." 

"Besides that." 

"To be fair,I don't think anyone really knows that much about him.Even Helga couldn't tell me what he was." 

"So why the mystery if he has nothing to hide?" 

"Now darlin',that's unfair.We all have things to hide.And I bet a guy as powerful as him has lots of skeletons in his closet." 

"That's what I'm afraid of,"she admitted,sighing. 

It was then that the kitchen door opened,and Xavier wheeled inside."Ah,Logan,I'm glad I caught you before you left."His cool blue eyes scanned all the kitchen detritus. "Kids." 

"I think I'd better remind them they have clean up duty,"Jean offered,giving Logan a strange glance before she gave the Professor a polite smile and left the kitchen.What was that about? 

"She's concerned about you,"Xavier said,answering his unspoken question.He hoped he read his expression and not his mind. 

"She shouldn't be.I'm always good." 

Xavier nodded in a way that suggested he was humoring him.But before Logan could snap at him for it,he said,"I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you." 

He gulped down the rest of his pop,and crushed the can into a tiny aluminum ball in his hand. "What?"He wasn't saying a damn thing until he knew what this was about. 

"I was just using Cerebro when I detected a great expenditure of mutant powers in Japan.I was wondering if you'd accompany Scott to check it out.I realize you two don't quite get along,but-" 

"Why me?"He interrupted,heart beating double time at the mention of Japan. 

"Jean and Scott both told me you speak Japanese fluently." 

How much did he know?Had Bob opened his big mouth and told him something he shouldn't have?"I don't know.But I can't help ya,I got other plans." 

Xavier's eyes narrowed,lines bunching in the corners as he seemed to scour Logan's face."Why are you afraid?" 

"I'm not afraid,"he snapped angrily,jumping off the counter.He so didn't want to discuss this right now.Or ever. 

Xavier's eyes widened in surprise,and he said,"You had a wife?" 

"Stay out of my fucking head!"He shouted,storming out of the kitchen. 

He walked through the dining room,startling some of the kids so bad they jumped out of the chairs and stood at attention,as if afraid they were going to get a reprimand.But he ignored them and went on through to the sun porch,and went outside.In this maze of a mansion,there was no way to get to the garage unless you backtracked (or had Kitty's power),and he was not cutting through the kitchen again.Fuck it-he could cut through the yard and go around to the front garage entrance and grab his bike.He was not talking about Mariko with anyone.It was hard enough with Bob,and that hadn't really been voluntary.Not completely. 

He ignored the kids out back playing softball,and several of them gave him strange looks as he simply climbed up and over the dense,eight foot laurel hedge that separated different parts of the grounds,and hopped down to the other side.He was use to odd looks from the kids, though;he wasn't like any of the tight assed prigs around here,and they seemed to be equally  in awe and afraid of him,which was fine with him.It meant they generally kept their distance. 

Except Rogue,but she always had to be contrary. 

It was a nice day,or it should have been,but it wasn't to him.The sun was too bright,the air too redolent of people and car exhaust,and he knew he couldn't get a headache,but he would swear there was one trying very hard to form behind his eyes. 

He opened the garage door,and had set a single foot in when he smelled someone familiar."No fucking way,"he exclaimed,in angry disbelief. 

Xavier wheeled out of the shadows near the front of the garage entrance."I won't tell anyone, Logan.That's for you to decide.But why shut us out of your life?" 

"What life?"He replied angrily.Xavier wasn't gonna stop him from leaving,that was for damn sure. 

"We're your friends.We want to help,if we can." 

He straddled the bike and kick started the engine,revving it so the noise filled in all the gaps and made communication virtually impossible."I don't have any friends,"he muttered. 

Xavier heard him,maybe because he was telepathic."You have more than you think,"he said-or maybe sent.He really didn't know. 

He drove out of the garage and didn't look back,and Xavier made no attempt to stop him. 

Once out on the road he opened up the throttle,leaning into the wind and trying very hard to become one with the motorcycle.He weaved in out of his lane on the highway,passing cars as if they were standing still,enjoying his own personal velocity. 

He had no idea where he was going,simply away,and that was enough.Maybe if he drove fast enough,he could leave it all behind-himself included. 

    2 

    He didn't know where he was or what time it was when he pulled off into the unpaved gravel lot of a seedy bar in the middle of nowhere,and decided he could finally have his beer. 

There was no clock visible-not a shock,as people didn't come in here to while away the time, they came in here to kill it stone dead-and in spite of all the windows near the front the place was a dark as hell,even in the middle of a bright afternoon.It was like a black hole of despair, and he felt right at home. 

He ordered a beer from the dumpy bartender,a guy who had about thirty more pounds on his frame than was healthy and had the sallow skin of someone already suffering from a disease, and he took his beer back to a torn vinyl booth in the corner. 

There was only a handful of people in here,the hardcore drinkers,depressives,and sad sacks who had absolutely nothing better to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon than get loaded on cheap beer and smoke themselves into a premature grave. 

Some sort of sporting event nattered on the small t.v. above the bar,but few people even bothered to pay attention;most were hunkered deep in their own private hells,and if not for the white noise blather of the set,there'd be no noise in here at all,save for the clunk of glasses against the stained wooden bar and the heavy exhales of cigarette smoke. 

Did he really belong here,though?Didn't he deserve better than to be constantly hovering around the bottom level of society,lingering in the wake of the scum of the earth? 

Nah. 

He spied what may have been today's paper on a near by table,but he felt no urge to get it.The world was fucked,whether he kept up on it or not. 

He was half way through his watery,piss flavored beer when he realized he heard whispering over his shoulder.He turned sharply,but there was no one behind him.Or beside him,or anywhere near him.But he would swear...huh.Again,it didn't pay to hear so well. 

Still,didn't he smell something strange?He smelled a woman,yet there were no women in this bar,just lumpy grey men;none could pass for transvestites even with help from Industrial Light and Magic.He couldn't shake the feeling a woman had been close,and watching him. 

He finished off his beer and decided to leave this cesspit before he got even more depressed. Was that possible? 

As he stood up,a guy at a near by table asked,"Hey bud,d'ya know what time it is?" 

Logan was wearing a watch,yet he didn't know why.Time never mattered to him,did it? 

He could have told the guy to fuck off or guess,but he was too enervated by this place to even do that.It was like the building itself was a psychic vampire.He glanced at its face,and said, "Yeah,it's-" 

It was then the entire world shifted,and he was sucked into reality,only to be spat out once more. 

Spat out somewhere else. 

He staggered across an almost violently purple carpet,and nearly fell headlong onto a blue suede couch. 

"See,I told you it was him,"Helga said,as he looked around the room. 

He was in the front room of a large house apparently decorated by a flamboyantly gay man.The furniture was all brightly colored suede or leather in a living room that was much bigger than his trailer and seemed cavernous thanks to the 'floating' ceiling above,the walls all painted a pale but bright eggshell blue,like the sky in the height of summer.It smelled intensely of sage, eucalyptus and smoke,and like a couple of familiar women. 

He wheeled around and faced Helga,who was standing by a baker's rack stuffed full of books. She was wearing a crop top t-shirt that barely covered her breasts,and cut off denim shorts that showed off her nice legs.She had dark crescents that suggested she wasn't sleeping well. 

"Sorry if we interrupted your drinking,Logan,"she said,not sounding sorry at all."We have a problem." 

"What,you couldn't call?"He snapped.He looked to his right to see the other vaguely familiar woman,the blue haired,blue lipped Amaranth,sitting cross legged amidst a small sea of animal and batik pattern floor pillows,a mirror flat on the carpet in front of her.It looked to be covered with ashes and seven herbs and spices. 

He glanced around,and although he spotted several signs that he lived here-the brightly painted didgeridoo next to the stereo and the big black sombrero (with pendulous white dingleballs) hanging on the wall next to the Dali print were dead giveaways.Only one weirdo could live in a place like this."Where the hell is Bob?" 

He turned around,doing a three sixty of this huge living room,and paused as he saw the view out the equally huge bay window.It was night here,and the water-there was lots of water out there-looked like black ink,reflecting the multicolored lights of the buildings across the Harbor like iridescent gemstones,making the moon hanging low in the sky look like a pale candle flame in comparison."Whoa."It was a hell of a view.Of course,would Bob settle for less? 

It suddenly occurred to him:"Fuck,am I in Australia?" 

"Ooh,someone give the genius a biscuit."Amaranth said sarcastically. 

"This is part of the inside of the Sydney place,"Helga said,by way of explanation.She sagged into a chair near the bookcase,and it looked distressingly like a refurbished electric chair. Knowing Bob,that was a great possibility."And we brought you here because we don't know where Bob is." 


	2. Part 2

"I kept scrying to find him but the flaming spell kept pointin' to you,"Amaranth said crossly,as if that was his fault somehow."I couldn't fuckin' figure it out." 

"Must have been the switch,left a residual trace of Bob's energy in his head,"Helga said,but not to him. 

Amaranth made a rather rude noise and shook her head vehemently."No way.I did the switch- there was no residual traces to leave." 

It took him a moment,but he finally figured out the 'switch' they were referring to was when he and Bob switched bodies back in Dis."So what if Bob's gone?He always comes back." 

"You don't know what actually happened,"Amaranth said coolly."It wasn't an earthquake down in Bondi,it was a bit of a blue between Bob and some sort of creepy crawly." 

"A blue?"Logan repeated. 

Helga translated."A fight.We think with an Old One." 

"An Old One?"Hadn't he heard that term before?"Isn't that what the Aborigines call Bob?" 

"How the hell do you know that?"Amaranth asked. 

But he ignored her."Yes,but we're not talking in Aborigine terms,"Helga told him."They call all demons Old Ones,but distinguish between good and bad ones.We're talking Old Ones in Watcher terms,which means the big ass demons that ruled the Earth before Humans showed up." 

He glanced between the tired Helga and truculent Amaranth,and asked,"And I'm supposed to believe that?" 

Amaranth made a noise of disgust."Why did Bob entrust anything to this drongo?" 

He heard footsteps on the stairs and turned to see a woman coming down from the second floor.He had no idea who she was and tensed,but she looked harmless enough:a tall woman of average weight,with long brown hair draped casually over her shoulders and a girlish fringe of bangs covering her forehead. eyes a guileless dark blue,and most remarkably he thought he saw recognition in them."So you're Logan, huh?"She asked,and her voice betrayed a strong American accent. 

He eyed her warily."Who the fuck are you?" 

"Tallulah,"she replied,bronze painted lips curving up in amusement at his hostility.She was barefoot, wearing a rather shapeless red sweatshirt and loose black yoga pants,and she smelled human,which was a surprise.She came over to him and held out her hand towards him."It's always nice to meet a fellow mutant." 

Yet another surprise."You're a mutant?"He shook her hand lightly,but only because he was stunned. 

She nodded."Not a very good one.I hear you have claws and advanced healing,and enough stamina to go all night." 

"What?"He exclaimed,and snapped his head around to glare at Helga.Conveniently,she had gotten up and was disappearing into the kitchen archway. 

"Anyone else want a beer?"Helga asked,sounding like she was trying to cough to cover the laugh. 

He glowered in Helga's wake,but that did no good at all."So what can you do?"He asked,trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. 

"Oh,I can astral project,basically.I can tell myself where I want to go and mentally go there,but I have to be unconscious to do it.And I have some physical mutations." 

He eyed her carefully."What do you mean?" 

"Well,there are these,"Tallulah said,and lifted up her shirt,revealing her breasts. 

All four of them. 

Just as he was getting over the surprise of that,she dropped her shirt back,and said,"I have extras of these too."And she held up her chestnut fringe of bangs to reveal two more blue eyes looking at him from the base of her hairline. 

It took everything in him not to jump back in shock. 

"Well...huh."He thought about making a joke on how nothing escapes her,but he bet she'd heard that a million times before.He slowly became aware that her scent was familiar somehow."Hey,I smelled you at the bar." 

Now it was her turn to be surprised."You smelled me?Wow,I didn't think I had a presence at all when projecting." 

"You probably don't,"Helga said,returning from the kitchen.She tossed him a can of Castlemaine XXX, which he caught easily.He'd never asked for a beer,but Helga obviously assumed he'd want one.She assumed right."He could smell a bad bet.He's got a nose like..." 

"A wolverine?"Amaranth suggested sardonically. 

"Do they have a good sense of smell?"Helga asked her,sitting back down in the neutered electric chair. 

"Yes.They can track prey for miles by scent alone.They're nasty little buggers." 

"What is this?"Wild Kingdom"?"He snapped. 

Helga just shrugged."I don't know much about wolverines.Besides you,of course." 

He wasn't about to admit he didn't know much about them either,except they were cold climate animals with claws that could gut a Grizzly.That was the entire extent of his wolverine knowledge. 

He turned back to Tallulah,and said,"How are you involved in this?Are you a distance relation of Bob or something?" 

She smiled slyly,as if she found the question vaguely amusing."Or something.I was...what,wife number seven?" 

Helga just shrugged,opening her can of beer. 

Amaranth,pouring what looked like tiny animal bones out of a velvet pouch,said,"Don't ask me." 

Tallulah shrugged."Well,I think I was number seven.Who knows?Anyways,it was a drunken,spur of the moment Vegas wedding,so it didn't last long,but we've always been friends.Men as sweet as him don't come along that often." 

He almost asked,but decided he didn't really want to know.Bob had mentioned having a mutant ex-wife, but he had thought he was kidding."Still,why help?" 

"I was here on vacation,and why wouldn't I help.This could be catastrophic."She then glanced at Helga. "Right?" 

Helga nodded an affirmative. 

"So why the fuck am I here?"Logan asked,throwing out the question to anyone."Bob can beat these Old Ones,right?" 

Helga grimaced."You might want to have a seat." 

"It's that long?" 

"Isn't it always?" 

She had a point.So Logan took a seat on Bob's blue suede couch,and cracked open his own beer,and waited to hear the explanation for why they slingshotted him half way across the globe to help a guy who never needed it. 

    3 

    Logan was glad the beer can was huge. 

Tallulah sat next to him,and between gaps in the story told him all about her relationship with Bob.They met when she was a member of the chorus in a topless ice skating review (!) at a casino's rink (the costume and judicious use of tape hid her "spare boobs").As far as she could tell,he was in town to fuck with the casinos (he liked to walk through them and make everyone at a table-from craps to blackjack- think they've won.The casinos lost money whenever he came to town and could never figure out how). They got on like a "house afire",and she thought he was unbearably cute,especially in his "Shag me, I'm Australian" t-shirt.They got very drunk,and she admitted she was a mutant and always felt bad about it since she was sure she'd never have a functional relationship because of it.He admitted he was a demon and it never stopped him,and at some point he said:"Wanna get married?" She said sure,so they went off to The Church of The Enterprise,a Star Trek themed quickie wedding chapel,and got married by A Spock impersonator.She barely remembered it,but a Sulu impersonator took some lovely photos. 

(At this point Logan didn't know whether to laugh or burst into tears.) 

When they sobered up,they both decided it was probably a rash decision,but it took them several months before they filed for divorce.They'd been on good terms ever since,and Bob even set her up with one of his great great grandsons (okay,that was so weird he really didn't want to know). 

Between the horrifying story of Bob and Tallulah's marriage (she kept the last name Oberon,because it was much better than her maiden name:Hoover-Onion.She had to be making that up...),Helga told him about the Old Ones and what might have happened to Bob. 

The Old Ones were basically ancient demon gods who were toxic to Humans and most living things,and most dwelled in hell dimensions.But not all,and since there was no earth shattering event,they assumed the Old One that grabbed Bob was from an alternate dimension but not precisely a hell one,which narrowed it down a little bit. 

The mystery was the man who seemed to be the companion of the Old One-a guy Bob called Ceph or Seth;the family had no reference to draw on there.They figured he was a demon,but that was still no help. 

Bob could defeat one Old One,maybe;possibly.They weren't sure.But more than one and he was probably screwed,and they were pretty sure that's why Bob was taken to another dimension,to ensure the victory.They figured it was some kind of revenge scenario. 

"I still don't see why you needed me,"Logan said,his beer and patience almost gone. 

"I kept casting a locator spell to find him,"Amaranth said,irritation clear in her voice.She was wearing what must have been her traditional garb,a black see through shirt and a magenta sports bra,this time combined with blue PVC shorts and heavy Chukka boots that made her look eccentric,to say the least. She was,beyond a doubt,related to Bob. 

She also had a necklace hanging around her neck,and the pendant looked like nothing so much as a little leather pouch filled with feathers and bones.She had sifted the tiny bones into patterns on the ash dirtied mirror,and she never once looked up."But it kept focusing on you.It was driving me mad." 

"Why would it focus on me?" 

"It has to be the body switch,"Helga said,looking at Amaranth. 

But Amaranth was still hunched over the mirror,sitting cross legged behind it and looking down into it like it was a bottom pit."In yer boot.I'm no twit,Helga-there was nothing left after I put them back in their right places.Maybe someone decided to point the bone at him and get us off track." 

"Say what?"Logan asked.Was she speaking English? 

Tallulah put her hand on his arm and he had to fight the urge to pull his arm away.It was nothing personal,he just didn't like to be touched most of the time."I know,the Australian slang takes a bit of getting used to.But after a while you hardly notice.And chunder is a much nicer way of saying barf,isn't it?" 

He moved away from her,until he couldn't move farther away from her on the couch without cutting through the armrest and sitting on the floor. 

Helga held her beer can loosely between her thighs,and got a pensive look on her face."What if Bob did it on purpose?" 

That made Amaranth look up,her electric blue hair moving around her face like it was alive."What?" 

"You know Bob.What if he gave Logan...something?Something the spell kept picking up?" 

"What do you mean?"He asked,not liking the sound of this.What had Bob done to him now? 

Amaranth considered that a moment,her eyes as bright blue as her lips and her hair."Ah shit yeah,I bet Bob thought something like this might happen.It's hard to put one over on him." 

"Hey-what the fuck did he do to me?!"He interrupted angrily. 

Helga and Amaranth both stared at him,pityingly and coldly,respectively."I don't know,"Helga admitted. 

"Left a bit of his mind in yours-or at least some energy.Why I don't know as yet.You seem like a real no hoper to me."Amaranth added. 

He didn't need to know slang to understand what that meant."Hey!" 

"Logan can survive it,"Helga said.He wasn't sure if she was coming to his defense or not."Bob's energy didn't burn him out,he didn't die.He was probably the only one Bob could safely trust it with." 

"Trust what with?Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?"Man,Bob had better stay away,because he was going to kill him when he saw him next. 

"As soon as we figure it out,hon,we'll let you know,"Helga replied,not unkindly. 

"He left you a chunk of his energy,why we don't know,and no one I can think of could read it without going "Scanners" all over the carpet,"Amaranth said,looking down at her bones again. 

"Why would he do that?"Logan wondered,ready to storm out.Not that it would do him any good- Amaranth would probably just zap him back here,and god knew how he'd get out of Sydney-but he was really tired of Bob and his shit. 

Helga looked at him and shrugged,but Amaranth,not looking up,said,"So you could find him,and he could save himself." 

Logan threw up his hands and rolled his eyes.That was as clear as mud. 

"Can we find him through the bit of Bob in his head?"Helga asked. 

"We can't,but he probably can.Sure you trust this guy?"Amaranth replied. 

"Bob did-isn't that good enough?"Helga replied. 

Amaranth was forced to shrug,still not happy,but what the fuck could she do about it? 

"I never agreed to find him,"Logan pointed out."Besides,he doesn't need help-he'll be back." 

"If he could get back he would be by now,"Helga argued,sounding very convinced of herself."Tomorrow's the Sydney Gay Mardi Gras,and he never misses it.When else can he wear his sombrero and feather boa, and do his Gene Loves Jezebel impersonation?The opportunity doesn't come up that much." 

He stared at her in disbelief."He has a feath-"he shook his head,cutting himself off."No,I don't want to know." 

"He's a larrikan,"Amaranth said,referring to Bob.He thought;he wasn't sure.Logan had no idea what she had just said. 

"Is that Australian for smart ass?"He asked. 

"Close enough,"Helga conceded. 

"I've got something,"Amaranth announced.Was the mirror actually glowing?It cast flickering shadows across her face,but nothing appeared to be on fire."The trace on the bad guy panned out.He's in a neighboring earthly dimension." 

"Well,Earth is good,"Tallulah said,trying to be encouraging. 

"A parallel one."Amaranth continued. 

"How parallel?"Helga asked.Did she sound nervous? 

"One where someone opened a Hellmouth,looks like." 

"What does that mean?"He wondered.In theory,it didn't sound good. 

"Demon ruled Earth,Humans kept as food,post apocalyptic and kind of dirty,"Amaranth looked up,and the mirror seemed to dim."It would make sense that some Old Ones might hang out there.They're probably kings of the castle." 

"And Bob would be screwed,"Helga mused,sounding very concerned for him. 

"He can handle demons,"Logan said,although he had his own doubts about it. 

"Most demons,"Amaranth said."But not Old Ones." 

"Do you think he's dead?"Tallulah asked,her voice a troubled whisper. 

Amaranth shook her head vehemently."No.I'd feel it if he was." 

"So what is that guy and the Old Ones doing to him?"Tallulah wondered. 

The question seemed to lay heavy in the room.No one knew for sure. 

But it couldn't be good. 

    4 

    "This is nice,"Bob said,looking around."I always knew you were probably into the bondage thing,but even for you this is very nice." 

He was in,to the best of his knowledge,some kind of sunken pit that must have once been the basement and lowermost floors of a building;maybe a parking garage as well.The walls defining the pit were steel reinforced concrete,greenish black with slime,blood,and several disgusting demonic secretions.He knew this was a wallow of the Old One's just by the stench alone. 

Of course,he had more than his sense of smell to go on.He was more or less nailed to the wall inside the wallow.His legs were trapped by steel cables,wrapped around from ankle to thigh like snakes.and a steel band as thick as big as a fender on a '68 Buick Skylark kept his arms pinned to his sides.But it was the spike through the band,his chest,and the concrete that was keeping him against the wall,suspended about ten feet off the muddy,blood soaked ground. 

Man,that had hurt. 

It still hurt-how could a five inch thick piece of steel not hurt when it was pounded through the center of your chest cavity and out through your back-but mainly it was just the queer feeling of cold metal inside him (it was now getting a bit warmer),and the rather disconcerting spells and energy of the Old Ones surrounding him,which were preventing him from escaping or using any of his meager spells, including teleportation.He couldn't get a feel for minds anymore either:the powerful,diseased brains of the Old Ones put out a sort of blanket of mental static,psychic white noise that clogged his synapses and made it hard to even think.But he knew he was lucky-if he was human or even a minor demon,he'd have gone completely insane by now. 

They weren't in the wallow itself,but skulking in two of the four tunnels that converged on this spot,and from the fetid,fermented shit smell emanating from them,he bet they were tunnels that led directly into the sewers.But then,that was the kind of place the Old Ones would love,the muck and decay that probably reminded them of the time before,when the Earth was all theirs.Of course,it was here too,but the primordial ooze was missing,so they had to settle for shit. 

"Do you ever shut up?"Ceph whined. 

He was pacing restlessly in the wallow,and he was wearing a mask over his nose and mouth to block out some of the smell,and wearing knee high waders to avoid getting muck on his pants.What a whimp. 

Seriously,how could he expect to be an evil mastermind-or an evil mastermind's sidekick-and not get a bit dirty?"No.I can't believe you don't remember that." 

Ceph's colorless eyes,in which you could sometimes see-if you looked hard enough-swirls of pink and lavender,spots of seafoam green that seemed to pulse in and out,glared at him evilly over his mask."You're a disgrace,Drai'shajan,you know that?" 

"I try." 

That made him unhappy.Well,unhappier."If I had your powers,I'd have taken them down by now." 

"I have no interest in them.They leave me alone,I leave them alone.Is this your big plan,Goldfinger?Use me to get to them?How,precisely?You know they couldn't give a rat's ass about me." 

"Oh,believe me I know.You'll simply be the engine of their destruction." 

"Usually am." 

Even though the lower half of his face was covered,Bob just knew he was scowling at him."You can't even take this seriously,can you?" 

"No." 

Ceph was probably frowning hard enough to break his face in half."How arrogant are you?You don't even care about your own death." 

"You know what will happen if I die,"he replied,giving the little puss a cold smile. 

Something on Ceph's half hidden face seemed to falter,crack.He must have forgotten.Then he seemed to regain his confidence."Ah,but you forget,we're going to beat you there.We'll make sure you're dead for good." 

"Somehow I can't seem to be impressed.You've always been a half assed loser,Ceph,and hitching your wagon to these washed up dinosaurs just proves it." 

"Brave talk for someone nailed to the wall." 

"Like this is the first time this has happened to me."He sighed,rolling his eyes."You couldn't even be original." 

Ceph's eyes narrowed to deadly slits."Let's see how cocky you are after you've been drained of power." 

Bob scoffed."Drained?I don't care if you have a dozen moldy Oldies here,that's gonna take a while." 

He just knew,from the way colors bloomed and died in the irises of his eyes,that he was grinning like a wolf."Yes,it will.It will take a long,painful amount of time.You'll be begging to die." 

"I doubt it.You've never gotten anything right,and I doubt you're gonna start now." 

He glared up at him,blood vessels exploding and being reabsorbed within his brighter than white eyes,so furious Bob was rather surprised he was maintaining his Human form."You'll regret that.You'll regret everything you've ever said to me.You could have had a part of this;you could have been a ruler rather than a slave." 

"Even if you rule shit,it's still shit." 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"I don't know what you think is so great there.I think you'll be disappointed." 

"Just because you like mucking about with the lower beings doesn't mean everyone has to,or that everyone else enjoys it."He heard slithery movements,the sound of scales sliding across oatmeal thick mud,and the long,dark tentacles of the Old Ones started emerging from the sewer entrances cut into the side walls."You could have had potential,Bob." 

"Not you.You were doomed from the start,weren't you Lucy?"He replied,not unkindly,although he used his old nickname for him that he knew he hated.The poor thing had always been delusional,but now he had really crossed a line,and there was no turning back,no mercy possible. 

The look he gave him was pure flaming death."Shut up.Shut up you wastrel,fallen god.You have become as much a savage as the things you live among.When you finally die,it will be a mercy killing.And when I storm heaven and see you there,you will be the first vestige I burn away." 

Bob gazed down him impassively,feeling a strange pity for him."Even if you succeeded,Luce,you know the Old Ones would never leave the door open for you.No matter how you slice this,you're a dead man." 

He gave him a final,hateful glance,then turned and stalked away as best he could through the muck, leaving through an empty sewer tunnel as the Old Ones started oozing their hideous bulk into the wallow. 

"Okay,let's get this party started,"Bob said,with much more enthusiasm than he actually felt. 

This was going to hurt,no doubt about it.But at least it would all be over soon. 

** 

    "I don't get it-why can't you just zap him back here?"Logan asked Amaranth. 

She glared at him like he was the stupidest thing she'd ever met."Because I only know his dimension,not his precise location.And I'm sure the Old Ones have him hidden from all means of divination." 

Helga,who had been paging through a thick,leather bound book that looked fairly old,suddenly said,"Oh shit." 

"What now?"He sighed.He knew from personal experience that nothing was ever so bad that it couldn't get worse. 

"Did it occur to anyone that Ceph might be Bob's nickname for Lucifer?" 

Amaranth dropped the bones in her hand,and they hit the mirror with a sound not unlike dice being thrown."Holy shit." 

"What?Satan has Bob?"Logan asked,trying not to laugh.He'd think they'd be good friends. 

"Satan doesn't exist,"Amaranth offered off handedly,sounding distracted."Although several Hellgods might borrow the name for a certain cache among Humans who don't know any better." 

"But Lucifer does exist?"He asked."So what the hell is he?" 

"An experiment gone wrong,"Helga replied."He was the first attempt of the Powers That Be to communicate their wishes to Humans.He was sort of an off shoot,a demon given a minor bit of Power That Be-ness,so he could act as a go between." 

"What happened?" 

"Word is he went nuts.He couldn't stand Humans and he wanted a place among the PTB's.Even though he was their messenger,he was considered a 'lower being' and they told him to get stuffed.He went on a killing spree,and they removed his PTBness,although he was powerful enough without it.He has a major grudge against them,though." 

"Understandable,"Logan opined."Bein' used and discarded can make ya bitter.But why grab Bob?" 

"Bob once told me Lucifer approached him,"Helga said,with a certain hesitancy,as if she was afraid she was breaking a confidence."He was getting an army together,and he wanted Bob as his General,or something like that." 

"An army?"Logan put it together without having to be told."To take on these Powers That Be,right?" 

Helga nodded. 

"That's insane,"Tallulah interjected.Bob isn't powerful enough to take on the Powers That Be.Is he?" 

"I wouldn't think so,"Helga replied. 

"Possibly,"Amaranth contradicted with great confidence. 

"Hell yeah,"Logan said."I was in his body.Fuck was that a trip.If there's somethin' more powerful than him I'd rather not meet it.I think I know what it must feel like to be a star goin' supernova." 

"I admit,he's powerful-"Helga began,but he didn't let her finish. 

"Come on-he's a god,isn't he?Some kinda demon god,slumming." 

"He says he can't say,"Amaranth said. 

"But-wait.I still don't see why he'd grab Bob,"Tallulah said,sounding almost distraught.Still had a crush on him,dating one of his distant relations or not. 

"Bob turned him down,and suggested Lucifer needed help and that he could help him,"Helga continued, staring daggers at him for interrupting her."That apparently offended him.Bob figured he'd been added to his shit list." 

"So why didn't he take him,or at least fuck with his mind?"He wondered. 

"Lucifer is mostly an Asmodeus demon.Not a type Bob can mentally access,like Ressiks."Helga shut the book she had and picked it up with her tail,which put it back on the shelf beside her as she took a hefty swallow of her beer. 

"Asmodeus?"Amaranth said,surprised."I thought they were extinct." 

"They are.All but Lucifer." 

"Oh man,"the blue haired witch said,and she actually sounded sympathetic."Boy,the PTB's really wanted to punish him,didn't they?Is he immortal too?" 

Helga shrugged."Bob didn't think so,but figured he was very close to it for a mortal being,and older than him.The PTB's would want to extend his punishment for hubris for a long time." 

"No wonder he's all twisted.If I was him,I'd want to kill the bastards too,"Logan admitted.He sympathized with the guy,but considering he had his little demon friends kill eleven people on Bondi Beach,he found it hard to hang on to it.Sympathy could only go so far."So he grabbed Bob 'cause he wanted to get even with him?" 

Helga could only shrug."I'd think so.Even with the Old Ones,there's no way he could force Bob to help him with their plan." 

"Could they use him some way anyway?"Logan asked.He clearly remembered closing all those dimensional rifts while inhabiting Bob's body.If he had the power to close them,one would assume he had the power to open them as well. 

Helga gave him a horrified look,and he got the sense she hadn't wanted to think about that,nonetheless have anyone mention it."I don't know." 

He caught a flash of dark movement outside the window,just out of the corner of his eye,and he snapped his head around,only to see nothing but the lights of the city across the harbor rippling on the ink black water."What the hell was that?" 

"Fruit bat,"Amaranth said dismissively. 

"Pardon?" 

"At night Bob's place is swamped with fruit bats,"Helga explained."He has a whole bunch of fruit trees around this place,specifically for the bats.If you look out the window,you'll see the trees covered with them." 

"He said a fruit bat saved his life once,back in the convict days,"Amaranth elaborated."He didn't say how, exactly,but ever since he's been fond of fruit bats.When I was a kid,we used to sit on the back porch at sunset and watch the bats fly in.It was like this big,living black cloud.It was freaky at first,but he'd grab a  
pear and walk in among them,and they'd eventually land on him and eat the fruit out of his hand.It was weird,but I got to pet them,and they seemed pretty cuddly,for bats."Amaranth smiled to herself,as if this was a cherished childhood memory.Maybe it was.It was hard to imagine Bob as anyone's father, nonetheless grandfather et cetera,but he did seem to love his bizarro family unit,and they seemed to love him.As Helga said,everyone loved Bob. 

Well,maybe not Lucifer. 

He couldn't quite shake the image of Bob as Snow White,only with fruit bats on his shoulders as opposed to birds,and it was hard not to laugh."Okay,back to the point.What kind of power does Lucifer have?" 

"Not much,"Helga told him."He's stronger than an average Human,but probably a weakling next to you." 

"They can cloud minds too,can't they?"Amaranth asked,now out of her reverie. 

"Asmodaii?Yeah,I think they can-could-play minor sensory tricks,make people see things that weren't there and whatnot,but it's limited,and not really big shakes.If it was,they might not be extinct." 

"I thought the PTB's killed them off,"Logan said. 

Helga shrugged."Possibly,through other go betweens,but I don't know." 

"Right,"Amaranth said,as if she'd just finished a long speech."I think I have the power to send you there, Logan,but you might have to save Bob if you want a return trip." 

"Hey,I never said I was goin'." 

"Afraid of Lucifer?" 

He scowled at the little witch."Hardly.I just don't like people volunteerin' me for things." 

"I think Bob already did,"Helga pointed out. 

Logan remembered that joke Bob made a while back-"You're the only Human I've ever met who could actually serve as an emergency corporeal vessel for me if I ever needed one;your body doesn't even cave for me."-and suddenly wondered if that had been a joke at all.Oh,that fucking bastard."So what exactly am I supposed to do when I get there?" 

"Find Bob."Helga replied tersely. 

"And I'm searching an entire dimension?" 

"No,"Amaranth said,pulling something out of the pouch around her neck.It looked like a bit of granulated ashes."I would guess the Old Ones have him,and they would be around their center of power." 

"The Hellmouth,"Helga agreed,nodding. 

"Sunnydale,California."Amaranth clarified for him. 

If they knew where the thing was he still didn't get why Amaranth just couldn't zap him here. Okay, whatever."Right.So I kill these Old Ones,and-" 

"Oh no,mate,"Amaranth said,chuckling coldly."You can't get near those ugly fuckers.You may be a mutant, but you're still a Human,and one look at them and you'll go bugfuck nuts." 

"I won't look at them."He replied sarcastically. 

"You don't actually have to set eyes on them,"Helga said."They're just so evil it sort of...broadcasts from them.Something about them,something emanating from their minds,drives people and lesser demons instantly crazy." 

"Sort of like Cthulu,"Tallulah interjected. 

They all looked at her."Huh?"Logan asked. 

"H.P. Lovecraft's demon god of madness,"Amaranth explained."That was a close approximation,actually. Makes you wonder who gave him the inside info." 

"So,what the fuck am I supposed to do if I can't get close to Bob?" 

"You can,just not when the Old Ones are around."Amaranth said,as if that was patently obvious. 

"And how do I know they're not around?" 

"With your senses,Logan?Believe me,you'll know."Helga told him. 

"Get to Lucifer,"Amaranth suggested."You'll probably scare the shit out of him." 

"Why?"He wondered,then realized he'd probably walked into something. 

"I thought that was one of your gifts,"Amaranth replied,proving he was right. 

He glared at her,but that only made her smile.She was so much like Bob. 

"If you can get to Bob,he should be able to access the thing in your mind,and this will be over."Helga said. 

"How do you know that?" 

She shrugged."I don't.I'm just assuming." 

"Would the Old Ones affect me,even in my projected state?"Tallulah asked. 

Helga and Amaranth exchanged glances,and both shrugged in unison."I don't know,"Helga admitted. 

"Can you help me mentally project into that dimension?"Tallulah asked Amaranth. 

"It's okay,I work best solo,"he said.If he had to go in with someone,he'd prefer Helga;hell,he'd pick Amaranth-winning personality and all-over Tallulah.He was sure she was very nice,but god,what a weirdo. It made perfect sense that she'd be in Bob's orbit. 

Hey-what did that say about him? 

Amaranth had to think about that for a moment."Yeah.It's a lot easier than transporting you physically." 

"Really,it's cool,"he told Tallulah."You don't need to...risk yourself." 

"It's no risk,"she said,completely missing the point."I just can't be with you for too long.After a while I get tired and have to return to my body." 

"That's understandable,"he said,trying hard to restrain his glee. 

"But understand Tally there's a one way conduit,"Helga said."She can tell us what you're up to,what kind of trouble Bob might be in,but she can't communicate with you." 

"If there's something you really need to know,I'll figure out some way to get it to ya,"Amaranth said."So basically you're on your own." 

He shrugged."Fine with me."That was how he liked it. 

"But understand this is a parallel Earth,where the demons are pretty much goin' nuts,"Helga cautioned him."They'll think you're food.It might get pretty brutal." 


	3. Part 3

He grinned at her,giving her a knowing wink."Ya know I'm counting on that." 

"You're a strange man,"Tallulah said.Oh wow,if that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black! 

"You might even run into people you know,or-gods forbid-even yourself,"Amaranth added."Just keep in mind it's a parallel world,and they're probably a whole lot different." 

"Yeah,I got that hon,"he said,standing up."So are we ready to do this thing or what?" 

"Yeah,I think so,"Amaranth said.He found himself wishing she had said that with a little more confidence. 

As he got up from the couch,Amaranth did too.Logan left his crushed beer can on the arm rest as Amaranth tossed a blue velvet pouch to Helga,who caught it easily."Know what to do,right?" 

Helga nodded."I've seen it done." 

Seen it done?He knew Amaranth didn't have Bob's power,but come on."What exactly am I in for here?"He wondered uneasily. 

"Nothing major,just a spell.Transition might be a bit rougher-you're going through dimensions."Amaranth said, running her thumb down her forehead,leaving a grayish vertical smear of ash. 

"Bob seemed to do it pretty easy." 

"I ain't Bob,"she countered.Fair enough.But she still seemed powerful,especially for someone with a little Human blood in her (a little,not a lot-up close,she smelled more demony.A bit of Bob's dry static smell,a smidgen of Human,and a lot of something else,something that smelled like moss and parchment-unless that was related to the stuff in her pouch). 

Amaranth gestured him over to stand on the mirror."I'll bust it,"he warned her. 

She shook her head."Doesn't matter." 

"Seven years bad luck,"Tallulah warned. 

Amaranth frowned at her."Oh please,that's an old wives' tale.And I can put the mirror back together anyways." 

He was glad someone else around her thought Tallulah was off her rocker. 

He felt as silly as hell,but he stepped on the mirror, hearing the faintest cracks as the glass started to fracture beneath his weight.(And maybe it was Tallulah's Spock story,but he had the sudden,giddy urge to say,"Beam me up,Scotty."He resisted the urge,because Bob's family had not made him that crazy yet.) 

Amaranth,standing in front of him,said something in a language he couldn't hope to grasp,and he thought he saw veins starting to stand out at her temples,veins a brighter blue than would be healthy for a Human.But luckily she wasn't one.  
Helga suddenly threw the contents of the blue velvet pouch on him-whatever it was it was extremely dusty,tasting of ash and burnt wood,charred wormwood and violet-and just as he was about to ask her what her deal was,Amaranth shouted something- 

-and he felt catapulted,the world twisting inside out and upside down,throwing him to the ground. 

He staggered on his feet and sneezed from the inhaled ash,even as he waited for his stomach to catch up with the rest of him."Jesus,"he cursed,brushing the ash out of his hair.What the fuck was that about? 

He then looked around him,hoping he wouldn't vomit,and realized what it was about. 

He was somewhere else,all right.He wondered if they goofed up,and sent him to hell instead. 

No.Hell would probably have a better decorator. 

Wherever he was it was night,and the air stunk of demons and burnt flesh,congealed blood and fear.He seemed to be in an alley,between two brick buildings that looked like they'd had their roofs torn off.Several meters beyond the mouth of the alley,fires burned in metal barrels,but from the smell it wasn't trash that was burning.Somebody was getting rid of evidence, or some parts they just couldn't eat.Or maybe that was the demon equivalent of a barbecue. 

In spite of the stench,though,he got a funny feeling Bob wasn't too far away;he was around here somewhere,even if he couldn't smell him yet.Maybe Helga was right about the thing in his head. 

It was then he got a feeling he was being watched,and he knew,just by smell,what.Good-easy kills. 

"Well well well,"a man with a British accent said."What do we have here?" 

Logan turned to see a tall blond vampire at the end of the alley,with the dark haired,weirdo Drusilla standing right beside him. 

    5 

    Logan stared at the pair of vampires staring at him,unable to keep from smirking. 

Drusilla was probably crazy in any dimension.She looked pretty much the same as she had when he saw her on Dis-pale as milk,eyes like a clear and untroubled sky (and just as empty),long dark hair,blood red nails-only tonight she was wearing a black lace dress with a red velvet bodice:somewhere between a Spanish dancer and a goth girl. 

The man,though-now he was funny.Tall and whip thin,his almost lambent paleness enhanced by his bleached blonde hair, which stood up from his scalp in a spiky,Bart Simpson manner,he looked gaunt and hungry,but not in the manner of needing food.It was a Clockwork Orange sort of look in his pale blue eyes,and he was grinning back at him in a lecherous way."What's so funny?"The man asked.His accent was vaguely Cockney."Did you just realize muttonchops went out in the 1800's?" 

"No.I was tryin' to figure out who'd make a Billy Idol wannabe a vampire."It seemed like he was going for a punkish look too,with the torn jeans and the stained green t-shirt,the Doc Martens and long leather coat,but Logan thought he looked silly.Laughable,actually.Everything in his manner seemed to say he thought of himself as a bad ass,and yet Logan knew he could dust this fuck without breaking a sweat. 

Dru began swaying her head from side to side and smiling,as if enjoying a music only she could hear."His blood sings.It's like a choir of little angels." 

"Hey!"The man snapped,frowning sourly."I am not a Billy Idol wannabe!That fat,bloated bastard was a poseur." 

"Ooh,"Dru cooed,slipping her arm out of Billy's grasp.She wasn't staring at Logan more than through him,and the smile was gone."He doesn't belong here." 

The man smirked at her,but strangely it was in a fond manner."No he doesn't,pet.But he's not going to be around much longer,is he?" 

"Was that a threat?"Logan wondered.Actually,he knew it was,it just wasn't a very good one. 

Billy boy locked eyes with him,tried on his best glare.(Rogue had a more intimidating one.)"No,food bag.A prom-" 

"-ise,"Logan interrupted,cutting him off."Do you know how hackneyed a line that is?It's almost as old as that hairstyle. And when's the last time you had a shower?You smell like a burning compost heap." 

Now the hate glare came on full and strong;he was starting to snarl like a dog. 

Dru had started backing slowly away,staring at Logan like he was the oncoming Winnebago and she was the fawn crossing the road."He's after the red king." 

The male vamp seemed to ignore her,used to her insane ramblings now,and really pissed off by him."You asked for it, Grizzly Adams."He vamped out-forehead pushing forward over yellow eyes,teeth suddenly becoming protruding jagged fangs-and lunged for him. 

Of course,he'd fought enough vampires by now to expect that.He simply ducked under Billy's grasp,grabbed his right arm,and with the help of the vampire's own forward momentum,threw him face first into the nearest brick wall.And just for the hell of it,he gave him a kidney punch to the back that audibly broke a rib. 

Logan grasped the back of his neck hard enough to make the small bones creak,and snarled savagely in his ear,"I don't want you,Drac,I'm after Lucifer.Tell me where he is,and I let you walk away." 

"Fuck you!"The vamp spat,and threw back a hard elbow.Logan took the blow-which hit his cheekbone. 

The male vamp screamed as something in his elbow broke on impact with the adamantium in his face,and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dru rush him,probably to save her boyfriend from further pain. 

She went for his throat with those deadly sharp nails of hers,but he let go of blondie long enough to grab her wrists and simply toss her,like a bag of garbage,into the street.Of course,she had distracted him long enough for the male vamp to spin around and launch a kick that was probably meant for his face,but Logan blocked it easily with his forearm.  
"Let him go let him go let him go!"Dru howled in anguished.He didn't know if she was pleading with him or her boyfriend. "He is a horseman!He is a castle for the king!" 

Logan was willing to bet that Dru also made no fucking sense in any dimension too. 

Blondie lashed out with a roundhouse punch,using his one good arm,but this time aimed right for the stomach."You're a bloody mutie,ain't ya?'The vamp snapped,as Logan let him land the blow."Are you a fucking Defender,is that it?" 

Dru was now wailing,kneeling in the street and rocking back and forth like a stricken widow.It sounded like she was muttering,"Smokestacks, smokestacks," but with her hands over her mouth he couldn't say for sure. 

Even though it was a good hard punch that knocked the wind out of him,the instant he landed the blow,Logan slammed his head forward and caught Blondie right on the bridge of his nose.There was a sickening crack,and Blondie grunted in pain, falling to his knees in the garbage strewn alley. 

"Just tell me what I want to know,asshole.You can't beat me."He wondered what the 'defenders' were,but honestly he didn't care-not his dimension. 

"You wanna bet?"The vamp replied,and punched him right in the balls. 

The pain made him stagger back,and Dru yelled,"Spike,leave him!" 

But Logan barely noticed,as the pain had so enraged him he could only hear the blood roaring in his ears.Fuck,he hated getting hit in the balls. 

Spike ignored Dru as well.(Spike-what kind of name was that?It made him think of a cartoon dog.)Blood was oozing slowly from his broken nose,dribbling over his fangs,left arm hanging useless at his side.If he had any sense at all he'd have backed off now,but obviously he had no sense.He pulled his arm back,probably for another gut punch,but Logan was done playing with this asshole.As Spike threw his punch,Logan popped his claws and sliced cleanly through his skinny,pale neck. 

Dru screamed in agony as Spike exploded into dust, and he straightened up,balls still aching."Are you gonna tell me what I need to know, Dru? Or do you want to play a stupid game with me?" 

Dru got to her feet, eyes shining with fear and hate. "You won't get what you want. I won't let you. The Master won't let you." With that, she ran off into the night. 

He could have followed and chased her down, but he didn't see the point. She was so insane he wasn't sure he'd understand anything approximating a straight answer that he got from her. He'd do better finding another demon, more afraid of pain, to spill its guts. 

He walked off, down the darkened, filthy streets of Sunnydale, wondering what kind of dickweed called himself  "The Master". 

** 

    It took more convincing than he expected to get The Master's lackeys to let him in through the door. 

Lucifer sighed at all the grotesqueries on display, wondering who The Master was trying to impress. The corpses were rotting and drawing flies, the severed heads were starting to lose bits of things, and the stripped bones were falling to pieces without anything to hold them together. He seriously doubted that The Master found all these rotting ornaments funny, but maybe he did. He thought he was classier than that. 

But he had set up his headquarters in the remains of the Sunnydale Mall, so how classy could he be? In the shops that still had display windows, his minions had posed corpses like mannequins: one was held up by a long ski pole impaled through his chest, and he was modeling the latest in ski wear, in spite of having a ripped out throat and a look of horror on his face. A woman modeling  a swimsuit was nailed to a mannequin to keep her upright; her head hung at an unusual angle, suggesting her neck had been snapped. A severed head was impaled on a stand in a former record store window, slowly rotating, showing off the prisms shoved in the holes where the eyes used to be. 

Maybe he thought this little horror show impressed the Old Ones. Truth be told, they couldn't care less, but they thought so little of vampires (thinking of them as half breeds) nothing he could do would help the cause. 

The tall, black haired young vampire who was acting as one of the perimeter guards led Lucifer through the remains of the food court (and considering how fresh the corpses were here, they had taken the name literally),and to what was considered the 'throne room':a former candle and magick store called The Raven's Nest. The Master did so love irony. 

There was a throne at the back of the room too, a large chair that had been decorated with Human bones. It was a nice touch, actually; whoever decorated the chair was very talented. 

"Well hey, what do you know?" The Master said, smirking. "An Asmodeus. I thought you guys were extinct." 

"They are. I'm not." 

The Master was sitting slumped casually on his arty throne, one leg draped over the arm while the other foot was flat on the floor. He was wearing black leather pants and boots, and an open necked black silk shirt, looking as relaxed as a vampire despot possibly could. Considering the flush on his youthful face, he had probably fed quite recently. 

"So what do you want, As?" Angelus, also known as The Master, asked him, examining his fingernails as if bored already. 

"There's been a dimensional breech, Ang-" The vampire looked up and glared at him. "-Master, and I think it could be deadly for all of us." 

Angelus looked at him askance, clearly thinking he was completely mental. "Not for me. Bye." 

"Maybe for you," a woman said,drifting in from the background. In some attempt to be "gothic", the only light in the room was from- what else- candles, placed on every shelf, and floor cushions and low chairs lined the walls on either side. 

Angelus seemed to keep a harem, as he was almost always surrounded by beautiful women. That was no exception today. Even in these low light levels, he could see a long haired brunette by the door, looking like she was putting on make up (a vain vampire?) ,a blonde near his throne on his right side (almost always with Angelus-his favorite,rumored to be a former Slayer he turned), a redheaded playing checkers with an Asian girl (they were using eyeballs in place of plastic chips, and he didn't know why they didn't deliquesce. They seemed shiny. Perhaps they'd laminated them) , and he knew without turning around that those two weirdo twins had appeared behind him, far enough away that he couldn't spin around and grab them,although that didn't matter a toss. In any dimension, those sisters were beyond deadly, and they- along with the Slayer girl- were Angelus's 'enforcers'. But he'd only be concerned about the Sisters. 

He wasn't sure they- Belinda and Beatrice Zhuravleva- even knew their names anymore. But he would rather meet the preening, sadistic Angelus in a dark alley before he'd ever want to meet the Sisters. Angelus thought they were his to rule, but Lucifer knew they were just humoring him. If they got bored, they would take over themselves, or more likely just leave.They could kill anything, but they had no overwhelming ambitions to do anything else. 

The woman who spoke came in from a back entrance somewhere beyond the throne of bones, looking like a wraith, all pale skin and wide, empty eyes, her black hair like a shadow that followed her wherever she went. He knew from the odd feeling he got from her this was Drusilla, the seer vampire who also completely nuts. She was the occasional fourth enforcer, although it was rare for her to go anywhere without her blond boyfriend, Spike. 

"I saw him," Drusilla said, staring at a nothing point over his head, idly twirling a strand of her dark hair in between her fingers. "He killed my Spike. I told him he was a horseman, but his pride had been hurt. He was so prideful..." 

"Who killed Spike?"Angelus asked impatiently,twisting back to look at her. He seemed completely unconcerned that Spike was dead, but then he was a man. Angelus had little concern over his male soldiers. Actually, he had little concern for any, but he was fond- in a twisted, sick, vamp way- for some of the females. 

Dru looked towards him, but not at him. She was walking in an almost zombie like manner, like she was in shock, but Lucifer knew that wasn't it. She was trying to puzzle something out. "A man, a man who knew me. He tastes like metal." 

"Would you make sense for once in your life?" The brunette who had been putting on her make up snapped impatiently. Apparently she was done, and Lucifer wondered how old she'd been when she was turned- sixteen? 

Dru looked at her, Delft blue eyes narrowing to slits. "Daddy never liked you." 

"Dru," Angelus interrupted, before the little cheerleader could reply. "Are you saying you know this guy?" 

"No. He knew me." 

Angelus made a noise of impatience and rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air. "And how did he know you, Dru?" 

There had been a real Master once. Old, old vampire king who successfully opened the Hellmouth, with help from Angelus and his vampire minions on this side. But after the opening it seemed there was a power struggle of some sort, and Angelus killed the Master, taking his place. Being called "The Master" amused him greatly, and Lucifer couldn't help but think of him as some latter day, vampire Caligula. 

"From his world. He thought I was crazy." 

"So we know he's perceptive, " the blonde said wryly. 

"Buff,"Angelus said warningly to her. She glared back at him, unintimidated by his look. She must have been a favorite if he hadn't dusted her by now. 

"What did he look like? Did he have blue eyes? Did he seem Belial?" Lucifer asked. He knew there was a dimensional disturbance and knew it was probably one of Bob's bastard family coming after him. They didn't have an inkling of his power, but some had the Blood in their veins. 

Angelus stared at him. "Belial?" He scoffed. "Ooh, are they gonna try and sell us an insurance policy?" 

"No, he was Human," Dru replied, staring into a candle flame like she was reading tea leaves. "His eyes were green like bile, and he wasn't afraid. Even when he was hurt he wasn't afraid. He could kill us all and he knows it." 

"Green?" Well,it was possible one of Bob's offspring might have green eyes- but smell Human? Highly unlikely. 

"Wait a sec," Angelus said, finally sitting forward, bringing both feet to the floor. In the flickering light of the candles, the planes of his face seemed as sharp and cruel as he was on the inside. "Male, right? Not a Slayer?" 

"The Slayer's hooked up with those freaks, remember?" The one he called Buff said. "What do you call them- Defenders?" 

"Mutants," Angelus spat, like the word tasted bad in his mouth. "Is that what killed Spike, Dru? A fucking mutant?" 

Dru seemed to nod, although she could have just as easily been swaying her head. "His blood sang like lightning, but he is a razor in the hand of the red king." 

"Huh?" Angelus looked to his women, who all seemed to shrug back at him, having no idea what Dru was talking about. All except the Sisters, who said behind him: "Red-" 

"-king?" 

They said it in a way that meant it intrigued them; they had no more clue than any of the others what she was talking about. 

But Lucifer wondered if he knew what she was getting at it. 

"Giles!" Angelus suddenly shouted, and in a moment he heard a shuffling as a man emerged from the back door Dru had entered through. 

This was a very odd vampire, as he was clearly not a strapping young man, cannon fodder for Angelus's army. He was in forties or fifties maybe ,and he still wore little wire frame glasses and a tweed jacket. He looked like a librarian. He had to be the former Watcher that Dru thought was cute. Only when Angelus decided that his Watcher knowledge might be useful did he give Dru the okay to turn him. 

"Yes, Master, what is it?" The British man said, stammering slightly. Word was he hadn't adjusted to the vampire thing well at all. 

"Ever heard of something called the red king?" Angelus asked. 

The man canted his head and thought about it, as the blonde vampiress asked Dru, "So what was his mutant ability anyways? Bite proof neck?" 

"He has daggers in his hands, and he is unbreakable." 

"What, you mean he has knives that shoot out of his hands?" The blonde asked, making a sort of flinging gesture with her hand as if to illustrate the point. 

"Unbreakable?" The Sisters said in unison. It sounded like they took that as a challenge. 

"I can't recall any references to a red king off the top of my head," Giles admitted. "But it could be an obscure reference." 

Angelus gave him a dismissive way of his hand. "Go look it up then." 

Giles nodded, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, and left the way he came in. He was too subdued to be much of a vampire. 

"The knives are in him," Dru said. "They are flesh of his flesh." 

"Huh?" Buff replied, making an appropriate face. 

"Do you mean ,like, his hands turn into knives?" The redhead said, finally looking away from her game. 

"He has hands, and he has knives." Dru replied, which cleared nothing up. 

"The-" 

"- knives-" 

"-are inside-" 

"-his hands?" The Sisters guessed. 

Dru looked at them and smiled brightly. "You come to stay, but you're always leaving." 

"Was that a yes?" Buff asked the redhead. She simply shrugged and shook her head. 

"How did he kill Spike, Dru?"Angelus asked, with put upon patience. 

She frowned, brought back to the unpleasant topic at hand. Pun intended. "Nasty man chopped his head off." She slashed her hand through the air quite suddenly, as if re-enacting the killing blow. Her strange eyes then settled on him, and she said, "He wanted you. He's come for you." 

All eyes focused on Lucifer, and he felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach. Mutant or not, had to be some bastard relation (in-law?) of Bob's. Maybe he didn't have the Blood, but he probably had little to fear from demons if he came here of his own accord. Still, if he was Human, there was no way he could get close to the Old Ones. 

Angelus stood up, brown eyes narrowing as he started walking slowly towards him. "So I'm in danger, huh? It's you who's in danger, asshole, for wasting my time and getting one of my people killed." 

But as he started by her, Dru reached out and grabbed Angelus's arm tightly, stopping him. "We can't let him get what he wants.It will all burn." 

Angelus scowled at her impatiently, pulling his arm from her grasp. "What? Nothing's gonna happen if we give this little twat Asmodeus to him. Hell, I'm in a mood to slice and dice him myself." 

"The red king will take our cake, and leave us only ashes," she replied, genuine tears welling in her eyes. 

"He means to kill the Old Ones," Lucifer said, not sure that was a complete lie. If he had the power and the opportunity, there was little doubt Bob would. He had to be the red king Dru was talking about, but he didn't understand that reference in the least. Bob was called many names, but never that. Well, not to his knowledge. 

Angelus eyed him like a dangerously crazy person, and Buff burst out laughing. "No one can kill the Old Ones," she said, gasping for a breath she didn't need. 

"Why should I care if those old squids get iced?" Angelus snarled, with a genuine disdain. 

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down," Dru chanted in a disturbing little sing song voice. She sounded like a lost child, and that probably wasn't far from the truth. She then put her hand to her throat, clutching it like she was terrified. 

Angelus studied her for a moment, frowning. Maybe Dru was a raving lunatic, but he knew when she got scared it was probably a bad thing. 

He growled in disgust, looking away, and when he looked back at Lucifer his eyes were almost shining with anger. "How do you know this, Asmod?" 

"I work for the Old Ones," he told him, again something between the truth and a lie. 

"Why don't the Old Ones get this mutant piece of shit for themselves?" 

"They are currently engaged in something very important." 

"More important than their worthless lives?" 

Wow. If the Old Ones heard that, Angelus was dust on toast. He might have thought of himself as the Czar of the Hellmouth, but he existed at the Old One's indulgence. The moment he was considered unwanted, he would be blowing in the wind. Maybe Angelus killed The Master, but he could never kill an Old One. "They are taking care of the red king, I believe." 

"We-" 

"-want-" 

"-to see-" 

"-the unbreakable-" 

"-one." The Sisters said cheerfully, their voices constantly volleying back and forth. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was just a single person talking. 

Angelus glanced at them over Lucifer's shoulder, and smirked. "I just bet you do, girls." He was probably thinking that if anyone could break him, it would be the Sisters, and it was hard to believe the thing they couldn't break had been invented yet. He glanced at Dru. "Where was he when you saw him last?" 

It took Dru a moment to come out of her trance and answer him. "Maple Street, heading towards Thirty Seventh. He sounds like the stars, but he feels like broken glass." 

Okay, nobody was even going to guess what that meant. 

"If you can, try and bring him back sort of alive," Angelus told the Weird Sisters, as they started out to intercept Bob's mutant friend. "This freak I gotta see." 

Somehow, Lucifer didn't think that was a good idea. 

    6 

    He sensed he was being watched-he bet he'd get that a lot- and smelled something familiar. Tallulah. 

"Nothing to report," he told her, wondering if he had time for a smoke or not. "Dusted some limey vamp with bad hair, frightened the hell out of Drusilla, haven't smelled Bob yet, but if he was zapped in there's probably nothing to smell. When I get near him, I'll know." 

The fact that he was walking down the middle of the deserted street, talking to himself (presumably), seemed to back off quite a few demons. What, were all the crazy ones saved for Dru? 

The sky seemed different here. Yes it was night, and most of the street lamps were busted, but the sky was a blanket of pure black, like the stars themselves had gone into hiding. There was a visible moon, a crescent sliver overhead, but it looked yellowed and diseased, and the light it emitted was very poor. He was glad he didn't need it to see, but he wondered how the myopic demons managed. 

Suddenly things got very quiet- no sense of eyes, no smells of waiting demons- and he wondered what was up. "Trouble coming," he warned. "If you're squeamish, you might wanna go back to your body now." 

He knew the smell,and he knew why everything else had cleared out. "Girls, you really don't want to mess with me. I'm sure you're the biggest bad asses around, but I ain't in a mood to fuck about." 

"He-" One said from behind him. 

"-knows-" The other said,walking out into the street in front of him. 

"- us too." 

The Weird Sisters were surrounding him as much as two people could, and honestly they could. They remained out of slashing distance, proving they were very smart. "I can fight a telepath. One, two, five- bring them on. Read my mind if you don't believe me." 

"We-" 

"-already-" 

"-have. You-" 

"- have no-" 

"-fear of us." 

They had moved in closer, starting to circle him, but they were still out of range of slashing distance. "No. But if it's anything, I'm more inclined to be afraid of you than anyone else." 

"Thank-" 

"-you." 

They circled, giving him stereo teasing smiles, they odd green and brown eyes glittering like jewels. He still smelled Tallulah hovering close, and from the way the Sisters glanced up, they knew she was there as well. 

He just stood where he was, arms crossed over his chest, watching whichever one was in front of him, acutely aware of where the other one was at all times. One charge,and he knew he could have one of them dead before the other reacted. But right now they were just circling, wolves weighing the odds. 

Pretty odd wolves. They both wore knee high blue suede boots, blue velvet pants, green velvet shirts, and long, see through plastic raincoats. Their shoulder length brown hair was pulled back in matching thick braids that fell to the center of their backs, slapping like horse tails as they walked. 

"Are we gonna fight or what? I got things to do." 

That made the Sisters give him leering smiles. "You-" 

"-think-" 

"-we can't-" 

"-hurt you?" 

"I'm sure you can. But I can kill you first." 

The continued to smile at him. "Quite-" 

"-possibly."It sounded like they found that amazing. 

"We-" 

"-know-" 

"-where Lucifer-" 

"-is." 

He simply raised an eyebrow, aware that they probably wouldn't tell him that easily. "So, where is he?" 

"You-" 

"-don't-" 

"-want to-" 

"-go there-" 

"-now. An Old-" 

"-One knows you're-" 

"-here, and he's coming-" 

"-for you. You should-" 

"-be afraid of them, Human." 

"I've been crazy. I lived." He was working on faith that he was actually sane. Honestly, he wasn't sure anymore, but did it matter? If he was sane, he'd actually have to consider the fact that he was talking to telepathic identical twin vampires in a parallel universe. 

"Not-" 

"-like-" 

"-this." He was aware one of the Sisters had moved off. The one facing him gave him that Weird Sisters grin, that one between a smile and a leer, that made her eternally sixteen year old face suddenly look a thousand years older and utterly ravenous. "Maybe-" 

"-we'll-" The distant one said, slowly moving off. Her other sister started to join her. 

"-see you-" 

"-later, Logan." 

And with that the two disappeared as easily as they had appeared. That was almost an anti-climax, but he was secretly sort of glad he didn't have to kill them. Oh, he could do it, but the two of them could probably make Sabertooth look like a big fucking pussy (well, he was already, but even more so). He'd probably kill them, but not before they put him in a serious world of hurt. He wasn't that arrogant; he'd seen them (well, their parallel universe relations) in action. 

He started down the way he was going, hearing the growing growl of a motorcycle engine, getting louder as it neared at high speed. He knew Tallulah was still around, so he said, "Oh great, more trouble. Well, at least I can get me some wheels." 

He made it to the end of the street and simply waited, leaning back against the street sign, finding a cigar stub in his pocket and holding it firmly between his teeth. He didn't think this was going to take long, and he didn't want to light it up yet if he was just going to have to put it out again. 

Finally the bike arrived, slewing to a stop in the middle of the empty street. It was a nice bike, not a Harley but a pretty good, streamlined exotic type, as jet black as the leathers on the rider. They left the 'cycle idling as they took off their mirrored full faced helmet, and he started walking casually out into the street. "You know, the element of surprise generally includes not letting your enemies hear you coming from a mile away." 

The woman took off the helmet, and shook her short brown hair out of her eyes before looking at him and staring in shock. "Logan?" She asked. 

He stopped dead in the street, struck absolutely dumb. It took him a moment to find his voice, and looking into those blue eyes seemed to rob him of strength, so he focused on her mouth. Not much help-even that was familiar-but at least he found the strength to talk. "Naomi?" 

    7 

    Naomi looked back at him, her surprise fading away, and she said, "I thought you were up in Montreal. What are you doing here?" 


	4. Part 4

So this Naomi knew him here too? In a way, he was relieved, and in a way he was jealous. That prick hadn't gotten her memory erased, at least. Or so he hoped. "Umm, look, this is really hard to explain, but I'm not the Logan that belongs here. To this dimension, I mean." He rolled his eyes."I sound like a fucking crazy person." 

"Actually, no. We picked up some kind of dimensional disturbance earlier, but we assumed it was another creepy crawly dropping in or out.They have a tendency to do that." She revved the bike, and said, "Come on, hop on. We picked up one of those big fuckers on the move and headed this way, and it's best to stay ahead of them." 

He shrugged. "I ain't afraid of 'em." 

She gave him an affectionate,bemused smile before slipping her helmet back on. "You never are, hon." 

Did he want to do this? She wasn't a vampire or a demon, she was just her, Naomi. As he remembered her? No, of course not. She was the Naomi of this reality, and he had to keep telling himself he didn't know her at all. 

"Who's we?" He wondered,coming over and getting on the back of the bike. It was really odd to put his arms around her waist:it reminded him of when they were on their way to Alberta from Vancouver, and she held on to him so tightly as he drove the bike-in her words- "like a fucking maniac". It was a pleasant memory before everything turned to complete and utter shit, which seemed typical around him. 

"You know, the gang," she said, voice muffled by the helmet. "Emma, Rodrigo, Matty, Lily, Chai, Steve-wait, have you met Steve?" 

"You're thinkin' of me as the Logan you know." 

"Oh, shit, right. Sorry." 

He simply shrugged, and as distracted as he was by her still familiar scent and the warmth of her body, he was aware of a sort of strange psychic pressure at the back of his mind, faint for now but slowly growing. Was that the Old One on his way? Or was that the little bit of Bob in his mind, trying to warn him he was about to be in deep shit? 

Naomi took off, exactly the way she had come, letting the throttle completely go, and he smiled as he leaned with her against the violent wind caused by their sudden acceleration. Now it was her turn to drive like a fucking maniac. 

** 

    When Tallulah woke up on the couch, she was instantly asked by Helga, "So, has he gotten himself killed yet?" 

"No," she said, sitting up. She then recounted the odd bit of Logan meeting up with the odd eyed vampires who finished each other's sentences. 

"Shit, the Weirds," Helga cursed. Apparently Logan wasn't the only one who knew them. 

"Perfect name for them." Man, were they creepy. Logan seemed perfectly bored with them, and she had to admire him for that. Either he had tremendous balls, or a poker face that could break the bank. 

"Did they attack him?" She wondered, clearly concerned. Amaranth was no longer in the room, but she heard the water running in the kitchen sink, so she figured she was washing ash off her hands or getting a snack. 

"No. They discussed it, but they seemed to think better of it." 

Helga let out a sigh of relief ,and she wondered how much she cared for Logan. 

Tallulah was no fool; obviously she loved Bob. But she seemed to have some sort of thing for Logan, even if it was only a sort of passionate concern. "Is he tracking down Bob yet?" 

"No. The vamps warned him an Old One was on the way, which didn't seem to bother him that much, and then this woman on a motorcycle came by, and they seemed to know each other. He seemed kinda shocked for a second." 

"Did he say a name?" 

"Naomi." 

Helga grimaced and looked away, as if that was an unwelcome development. "Shit, this just gets better and better. What happened?" 

"She told him she thought they should get out of there before it showed up, and Logan went with her." 

Helga rolled her green eyes, and Amaranth returned from the kitchen, munching on an apple. "New problem?" 

"Who is she?" Tallulah wondered curiously. He had been more floored by Naomi than by the creepy vampires, and yet it seemed to her that he thought of Naomi as some kind of friend. 

"She's this mutant ex-girlfriend of his," Helga explained patiently, as Amaranth went to the front window and looked out at the Harbor. It was such a lovely view Tally didn't know why Bob ever left it. After all, in L.A. he lived in a converted warehouse with several nice views of other warehouses."She controls electricity, ergo her fabuloso mutie name is Electra. Anyways, she and Logan were bang buddies for a bit, and he got sweet on her, but through a soap opera too complicated to get into here, she lost all her memories concerning the last ten years of her life, Logan among them. He blamed himself for it for some stupid, self-piteous reason, and she remains a kind of sore point with him." 

"Bang buddies," Amaranth repeated, chuckling. "You're such a romantic, Hel." 

"Yeah, Bob tells me that all the time." 

"I should have a mutant name," Tally said, thinking aloud.She never bothered to think one up, assuming she wasn't worthy of one, but Bob had said mutants with less powers and mutations had a name, so why shouldn't she? Electra was a nice name, but obviously it had been taken, and it didn't exactly apply to her, did it? 

"Do you think we'll have to get him back on track?" Amaranth wondered, paying no attention to her aside. 

Helga shook her head, folding her legs underneath her in the electric chair that Bob claimed to have bought from a carnival haunted house that went out of business. But Tallulah had her doubts sometimes-if anyone would buy a genuine one, it would be Bob. "I don't think so. He knows how important Bob is and how important this is." 

"I hear a but coming," Amaranth said,before biting into her apple. 

Helga shrugged a single shoulder, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth impatiently. "Well, I'm assuming his emotions and his loneliness won't get the best of him." 

"And if they do?" 

Helga fixed her eyes on Tallulah,and asked, quite seriously, "Do you think you can possess people?" 

Oh dear. 

    8 

    Naomi brought him to what appeared to be a dilapidated mansion on a cliff overlooking the sea. It smelled like vampires and some particularly noisome demons had dwelled here once, but now it simply smelled of humans. 

What furniture there was looked like it had been looted from an actual fire sale-one held when the store was burning down. This gave him an obvious expectation of deprivation, but as she led him into the kitchen of their encampment, he spied a small room crammed to the rafters with so much high tech equipment it looked like a Circuit City had exploded in there. That must have been how they spotted the dimensional disturbance and the approach of the Old One. 

Naomi explained how Matty (a woman, apparently) had rigged up a special cover for the engine of the motorcycle, so she didn't burn up the wiring, although she still couldn't use her power while on it or get "really mad". She had learned wire repair from Matty, who was their electronics expert-literally. She was "psychically attuned" to machinery (whatever that meant), and could control any device with thought.She also could often glean things from the object itself, like who was the last to use it and so forth. Honestly he didn't understand it, but Naomi said it was nice to meet someone who was almost as "sensitive" to electricity as she was. 

The kitchen was almost as expansive as the cavernous living room, but seemed even bigger due to the fact that the appliances were all shoved up against the walls, leaving tracks on the white linoleum, and left only the scarred wooden dining room table and its seven mismatched chairs to take up the center of the room. 

As they sat down and had a beer, she told him about him, because she asked if he wanted to know who he was in this universe. He really didn't want to know, but he knew it would delay him having to explain his presence here, and he was eager to do that. 

She told him a story he couldn't quite believe. The Logan she knew was the leader of the Defenders (some sort of demon resistance movement, formed by mutants to protect other humans, with some 'good' demons thrown in) in Canada, but he came down here quite a bit, and all the North American groups helped each other out. 

There was a major 'demon flight' over the border from Canada to here lately, mainly because he (the Logan here) was now the nominal leader of the Berserkers. What happened was this: a tribe of Berserkers had nested in Toronto, and that was bad news for everyone. But Logan had learned that the Berserkers, being extremely hierarchal, had a warrior queen who made all the decisions for the tribe. The one who beat the Queen became the unquestioned leader of the pack. So Logan challenged the Queen Berserker for her spot, which was amusing to all the other Berserkers, and she accepted. Well, of course he killed her in unarmed combat (somehow he got banged up, but Naomi said the fight lasted about two minutes, tops), and ordered all the other Berserkers to wipe out the other bad demons who were nesting in Toronto and snacking on all the people. They wanted to refuse, but were hamstrung by their own traditions, and frankly- killing? Great! So the Berserkers did as told, and the city was back under Human dominance in six hours. A real feat, since they'd been battling to take Toronto back for weeks. 

(Apparently he still asked when he came into a room: "What, no 'God Save the Queen?' ") 

Now the Berserkers were spreading out over Canada, and demons were fleeing in advance of them. No demon with a choice wanted to face a Berserker on a mission to kill. Naomi felt that was the epitome of "her" Logan: insanely, stupidly brave, taking these huge risks and flirting constantly with complete disaster. But this gamble -like many of his gambles- had paid off incredibly well. Of course, Berserkers weren't the most trustworthy species, and he expected them to bristle under taking commands from a Human sometime soon, but he was confident he could handle them if he had to (and Logan himself knew they weren't all that hard to kill), and they were amazingly effective weapons he planned to use as long as he could. 

He got the idea they were more than friends, although she didn't come out and say it directly. "Why aren't you part of the Canadian resistance?" He wondered. 

"I am, part of the time, " she replied, still looking at him over the table in a strange way, like she couldn't quite believe he wasn't the Logan she knew. "But I had moved to the States before all this shit started to happen, and I feel torn, you know?" 

"I think so," he agreed, not quite sure he did. "So where's everyone else?" 

She looked around as if addressing their ghosts."There's a group of demons causing big problems near Los Felis, so they've gone up to take care of it." 

"Why didn't you go with them?" 

"They're Phoson demons." At his blank look, she explained, "They disrupt electrical fields. They would have neutralized my power completely and made me useless. So I'm holding down the fort 'til they get back." 

"You still coulda punched 'em." 

She smiled slyly over the rim of her beer can, not quite laughing but almost. "I'll leave that kind of thing to you, Berserker Queen." 

He smirked back at her, wondering if all that Berserker hierarchy stuff was true in his dimension. If so, was he a Queen and unaware of it? Oh, that was too weird to contemplate. 

"So why pay a visit to our dimension, other Logan?" 

Oh fuck. He hoped she'd forget that. 

He tried to shorthand it for her as best he could: Friend of his (well, it was better than saying "weird guy who may or may not be a friend, but is one of the few people who hasn't tried to kill me") taken by the Old Ones at the behest of a mentally unhinged Lucifer, and he was trying to save his ass before the Old Ones could kill him. If possible. 

She stared at him open mouthed, as if waiting for him to add "I'm shitting you", but of course he wasn't. So, after a long moment, she said, "Lucifer as in Satan?" 

"No. Lucifer-I've been told-was a messenger for some gods who wanted a promotion. When he didn't get it, he went postal, and the gods punished him by taking away his messenger powers and leaving him on Earth. And he's got his panties in a bunch over Bob not wanting to help him kill the gods or something." And he vaguely remembered that in the Bible story or whatever (Belial shit as it was), Lucifer was cast down to the pit of hell for hubris, but in reality Lucifer got kicked to the curb on Earth. There was no need to read between the lines there. 

She considered that a moment, tracing an invisible circle on the table with her index finger. He remembered her doing that on his chest when they talked in bed; it was some sort of habit whenever she was thinking, eternally tracing a circuit. He wondered if the Naomi he knew still did that. "If the Old Ones have him-this Bob -he's dead." 

"His granddaughter...great granddaughter? Oh, fuck if I know...says he's not, and I'm inclined to believe her. Not only 'cause she's some big hoo haa witch, but also 'cause Bob is as hard to kill as I am." 

"What kind of demon is he?" 

"I'm not sure he is one, but he claims to be a Belial." 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Uh uh. Belials don't have any power, except the ability to lie like lawyers on their lunch break." 

"I know. He doesn't smell right either." 

"What do you think he really is?" 

He shrugged, and felt like a complete moron, but finally he told her, "I hate to say, because I really don't believe in this kind of shit, but I think he's some type of god or demi-god or something." 

Her pale brown eyebrows raised, duly impressed. "Really? What kind of power are we talking about here?" 

"He can make people do what he wants simply by telling them to do it, up to and including dying. He can also close dimensional rifts, and I assume open 'em, which may be why the Old Ones want him." Why had he said that? 

"Whoa, that's impressive. Why does he say he's a Belial?" 

"'Cause he kind of looks like one. Nuclear blue eyes. Oh, and blue blood." 

She grimaced in thought, staring down at a cigarette burn on the table. "He can't fight the Old Ones?" 

"The witch said he might be able to take one, but not two or more. Do you know how many Old Ones there are here?" 

She took a deep breath, and he got the sense she didn't want to disappoint him. "At least two. They're hard to keep track of unless they're on the move." 

"Shit." Well,it figured. Nothing could be that easy. 

"What kind of power does Lucifer have?" 

"Not much. He's as strong as your average demon, and he can make people hallucinate, but that's about it." 

"Doesn't sound too bad," she agreed. "Do you know where they have him?" 

He shook his head. "Do you know where the Old Ones hole up?" 

"Not precisely. But we do think they nest somewhere on the Western outskirts of town." 

"Can you point me in that direction?" 

She frowned at him. "You're just like the Logan I know. You can't possibly take on the Old Ones alone." 

"All I need to do is get to Bob. The girls seem to think he'll do the rest." 

"But still, the Old Ones drive people insane. How are you supposed to get within a few hundred feet of them?" 

He shrugged. "It was suggested I get to Lucifer. It sounds like he's kind of a wimp. But who doesn't cave when they get a glimpse of metal claws comin' at their face?" 

She cocked her head to the side, and gave him a curious look. "Metal claws?" 

"Yeah, you know, the adama-" he stopped in shock as he look got even more curious, and he asked, almost breathless with shock: "Your Logan doesn't have claws?" 

"No, he's got claws," she replied. "They're just bone, not metal. Yours are metal?" 

It was like the floor had been yanked out from under him like a flimsy carpet. No adamantium. It didn't take a lot of probing to discover her Logan didn't have big screaming nightmares, or even a chip on his shoulder. 

This Logan had no adamantium. He was never experimented on, vivisected like a frog in third period biology class. 

Now he really envied and hated this Logan. He had Naomi, he had his memories (well, most likely), and he had never been pulled apart for the sadistic glee of others. 

"Is something wrong?" Naomi asked, in reaction to the look on his face. 

"More than you'll ever know," he admitted, then shook his head about the whole thing. As nice as it would be to take the place of this Logan, it would be immediately obvious he didn't belong here. Adamantium laced bones aside, he was not the brave leader hero type that this guy obviously was. "Can we use that equipment of yours to find Lucifer?" 

She didn't seem to want to change the subject, but she let it go. "What type of demon is he?" 

"Asmodeus." 

She shook her head. "I have no idea what kind of demon that is, nonetheless how to search for it.You can't track down Lucifer somehow?" 

"Well, the Weird Sisters said they knew where he was, but they didn't specify. Maybe I can track 'em down and make them cough it up. I know what they smell like." 

"The Weird Sisters?" She repeated, her azure eyes growing wide. "You mean The Master's enforcers? You encountered them?" 

"The Master?" He echoed, annoyed. "What kinda dickhead calls himself The Master?" 

"Angelus," she told him, a sour look on her face. "He fancies himself the king of all vampires since he knocked off the real Master, who was an extremely old vamp. Angelus is a dickhead too, a preening pretty boy who obviously thinks he's the greatest thing since blood banks. The Sisters are kind of his personal bodyguard. I'm surprised that they didn't try something with you." 

He shrugged. For a moment, he thought she said Angel, not Angelus. He wondered if it was just coincidence their names were so similar. "I think they knew it wouldn't be worth it. Do you know where the Sisters hang out?" 

"Angelus is headquartered in the old Sunnydale Mall. It's a good bet that they're there." 

"If you know where he is, why don't you just burn the fucking place down?" 

She grimaced like this whole topic was a sore point. "It's protected by some sort of spell. We can't get through." 

"Really?" He thought about it, and wondered when Tallulah would get back here. He hoped she'd get here soon. "I think I could help you there." 

** 

    Angelus paced restlessly, and glanced at the watch he sometimes wore. Usually he didn't bother, because - as he liked to say - as long as it was dark it was always the right time. "The girls should have been back by now." 

Angelus and his harem had moved out into the center of the mall, around a former water fountain. Well, it was still a fountain, it was just someone had added red dye to the water, and a few Humans bones at the bottom, where mall patrons used to toss pennies for good luck. 

Angelus and Buffy (Lucifer had finally learned her entire name, and how gloriously stupid was it) were sitting on the stone bench surrounding the fountain, while the cheerleader, the redhead, and the Asian girl were in a near by clothing store, trying on clothes and making disparaging remarks about Human fashion sense, and Dru was farther down the way, alternating weeping over her lost Spike and doing some type of swaying dance to music only she could hear while giggling like a fucking nut case. She hadn't really talked to anyone since the Sisters had gone. 

"You don't think that freakazoid could have actually hurt them, do you?" Buffy asked, sounding genuinely unnerved by the prospect. 

Angelus snorted derisively. "A nuclear strike couldn't hurt my girls." 

The little blonde looked peeved. "Why do you call them 'your girls'? I didn't even think it was your idea to turn them." 

"What? Are you jealous now? Just 'cause they can kick more ass than you?" 

It was now Buffy's turn to snort. "Oh, I can take the Gabor Sisters. Don't flatter yourself." 

"Oh really? Willing to bet your life on that?" 

The milquetoast Giles picked a good time to suddenly reappear, holding a musty smelling book with a torn binding in his hands. Angelus must have smelled it too, because he turned around with a scowl, glancing over his shoulder at the tweed clad vampire. "Found somethin'? Took you long enough." 

Giles ignored the insult and glanced down at his book. "The 'Red King' doesn't refer to an actual demon but an obscure Victorian fairy tale. The tale concerns the greedy Gray King and his desire to take over the indolent Red King's kingdom-" 

"Skip the fairy tale, Captain Kangaroo," Angelus snapped impatiently. "What the hell's it supposed to mean?" 

Giles gave Angelus a remarkably evil look, and Lucifer just knew there was trouble in the Angelus camp, but whether it would ever add up to something was up for grabs. 

"The Red King only seemed indolent to the Gray King because he was kind and generous to his people, and not interested in acquiring other lands. When the Grey King poisoned and locked up the Red King, he was sure he had won. But the Red King was much more powerful than the Gray King had ever expected, and the Red King not only ousted him, but acquired his kingdom and freed his people, leaving the Gray King a powerless miser." 

"Break it down a little more, Aesop," Buffy suggested. 

Giles sighed, like he actually could, and straightened his glasses as he looked up from his book. "The moral is you should never judge a book by its cover. Or, more specifically, the most powerful person isn't necessarily the one with the most violent hand." 

Angelus scoffed. "Can you believe they used to read shit like that to kids?" 

"So what Drusilla is trying to tell us is she thinks Bob is more powerful than the Old Ones, we just don't know it yet?" Lucifer replied, thinking aloud. He shook his head dismissively. "No fucking way. The Old Ones would never take on a battle they couldn't win." 

"Who's Bob?" Buffy asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the name. Lucifer understood - he hated it too. So bloody unattractive and Human sounding. A silly, innocuous name for a silly, innocuous god. 

"The horseman is broken into little bits," Dru said, somewhat joining the conversation. She was faced away from them, doing her little dance, twirling occasionally. She now had a red silk scarf to dance with, although she sometimes wrapped it tight around her neck like she was trying to strangle herself. "He was pulled apart like taffy, but he snapped back together. He always falls apart, and he always comes back together. He's Humpty Dumpty, but no fall can break him." 

"What - the Sisters kicked his ass, but he got better?" Angelus asked, blatant disbelief in his voice. 

"Not the Sisters. I can never see the Sisters. They're like little fireflies in the corner of my eyes. I can see the glow, but when I turn to look, they've flown away somewhere else." She looked over her shoulder at them, blood red lips curved up into a ghostly smile. "I don't think they're coming back, daddy." 

That made Angelus jump to his feet, clearly alarmed. Buffy may have been the pet, but he really thought of the Sisters as his big guns. "No fucking way, Dru. He didn't kill them." 

"No, he didn't. But they don't like the taste on the wind, so they've decided to find a darker place until the ash settles." 

"Where?" Angelus growled, murder in his eyes. Did he really think he could take on his own attack dogs? Lucifer wanted a ringside seat for that. 

"I can't see them,silly," Dru pointed out, with a slightly childish laugh. Then her fragile blue eyes seem to lose their glow, and her head turned sharply towards the atrium, beyond which laid the entrance of the mall. "Ooh," she said, frightened, and she started backing away. She dropped her scarf, leaving it laying on the blue tiled floor like a smear of blood, but she didn't notice. 

"What is it now?" Angelus asked irritably. He was in a mood to hurt something, and if it had to be Dru, so be it. 

"The horseman has come back," she said, continuing to back away. In her haste, she almost backed into Lucifer, and he really resented that. He didn't want make up stains on his suit too; it was hard enough to keep the Old Ones sewer slop off of it. 

"So? He can't get in here. The barrier, remember?" Angelus pointed out impatiently. 

It was then the power died. 

All the lights in the mall went out at once, leaving the languid illumination from the lit candles in the Raven's Nest as the only light to see by. Lucifer felt a sudden constriction in his gut, and understood Dru probably had a very good point. Now was a wonderful time to leave. 

"Great," Angelus snapped, throwing his arms up for emphasis. "Electro-bitch probably blew the substation's transformer again." Lucifer suddenly felt a vise grip on his upper arm, and Angelus snarled in his ear, "Where do you think you're going, Lucy?" 

Oh, how he hated that nickname. 

There was a roar like a mechanical dragon, and a noise like the doors had been blown off as a motorcycle screamed through the dead wastes of the abandoned shopping mall, its one headlight so bright it was nearly blinding. 

In the chaos Lucifer broke from Angelus grasp and ran for it, in the direction that Dru had slunk away. 

Human or not, if he worked for Bob, it was probably best he wasn't here to meet him. 

    9 

    From the way they screamed after he ran over them, Logan found it comforting to know that broken bones still hurt vampires.Couldn't be lethal, but sometimes all you needed was to put the fear of pain in some people.Demons. Whatever. Sometimes it was the same thing. 

They hadn't needed to kill much time before Tallulah returned, and Logan told her to tell Amaranth they needed a spell to break the one protecting the vamps in the Sunnydale mall, and even though she thought he was nutty and talking to himself, Naomi explained what they thought the spell around the mall was. After a few minutes, a small bottle and a note appeared on the table as if out of nowhere ,and Naomi said, "I will never doubt your freaky hyper-senses again, Logan." 

In the bottle was a potion that Amaranth felt, combined with the spell on the paper, would bring any protection spell crashing down. Logan asked Naomi if she could do this spell stuff because he never had, and also he knew he'd feel too damn silly to do it. Naomi had no problem with it, and he was glad, because he'd feel like such a dick. 

Naomi agreed to do the spell and take out the power as well (never a big deal for her), and he'd go in and see if he couldn't find Lucifer. "You're not even nervous about storming a mall full of vampires, are you?" She asked, shaking her head and smiling. 

Of course he wasn't-what were they gonna do, bite him? Ooh, he was shaking. 

The place was lousy with the smell of rotting corpses, but the dusty stench of vampires was also prevalent, and some of them were familiar. Dru, the Sisters... someone else. He was a little surprised, but not by much. 

He brought the bike to a skidding stop on the blue tiled center court, about twenty five feet away from a water fountain where several vampires were clustered around, including the one who smelled so familiar: Angel, all in black leather, looking like a rough trade vampire, one arm at his side and one held behind him, a skinny young blonde next to him (it looked like she needed a sandwich). 

"So the name's really Angelus, huh? Makes sense. You never looked Hispanic to me." 

Angel just glared at him, clearly not getting what he meant. "I don't know how you got through the barrier, but you have to be the stupidest Human on Earth to come in here." 

As Logan put down the kickstand, he sensed a couple of vamps attempting to sneak up behind him, and without looking back simply lashed out his hand in an arc as he popped his claws, and heard the screech of exploding vampires as he put the kickstand down and got off Naomi's bike. "No, don't think so." 

The blonde was wide eyed with surprise, but Angel covered his shock better. Still, they both took a step back as he took a step forward. "Tell me where Lucifer is, and maybe I'll let you live to suck another night." He sensed the vamps emerging, surrounding him, but they stayed away for the moment. They might have a chance if they rushed him, but the will to rush seemed to be lacking. They may have been awaiting a sign from their fearless leader. 

"Well, you're more freakish-and ugly-than most muties, I'll give you that," Angel sneered. "But I haven't met a mutant yet immune to this." 

He pulled his arm out from behind his back, revealing the submachine gun in his hand a millisecond before he opened fire. 

The fusillade of bullets hit him hard, tearing skin and ricocheting off bone, the force of the impacts throwing him over the bike and knocking him to the floor. His head bounced hard on the blue tiles, and he briefly saw stars explode in front of his eyes. 

As the noise of the gun shots faded from his ears, he heard Angel laughing. "Stupid Human. They never learn, do they?" 

Logan growled at the pain of all the bullet wounds healing-especially one on his face; it felt like one of the shots had split his right cheek wide open-and got to his feet. "No, it looks like you don't," he said, and all the vampires seemed to jump back in shock. The fact that he could feel the skin still knitting together on his face (and they got to see it) added to the slack jawed gaping at him. "Didn't Dru tell you you couldn't hurt me? Now where's Lucifer?" For added emphasis, he popped the claws in both hands. 

Several vampires broke ranks and ran away: they'd seen enough. 

"What kind of fucking freak are you?" Angel asked incredulously, as if his inability to die was somehow a personal affront. 

"A motherfucking tough one." He thought that was obvious by now. Maybe vampires never learned. "Where's Lucifer?" 

"He broke and ran. Don't you know all Asmodeus demons are cowards?" Angel shot back.  
He and the blonde were continuing to back away from his advance. They had obviously decided fighting him was a one way trip up shit creek. 

"Excuse me, but vampires ain't exactly impressin' me with their bravery at the moment," Logan noted dryly. "Now where was Lucifer headed?" 

"How the fuck should I know?" Angel replied peevishly. "I'm not his mother." 

"Let me guess: did he run off to the Old Ones? Where are they?" 

There was a pause as Angel thought over his options (What options? Talk or die), and finally said, "They live in some caves by the ocean." 

"Why be noble now?" A British vampire standing behind the fountain said. "You've never done it before." 

Angel looked back at him with a nasty glare. He was the oddest looking vamp Logan had ever seen, mainly because he was well into middle age, and dressed a bit like a natty banker, which included glasses. He'd never seen a vampire with glasses. Did  they need them? "Shut up, Giles." 

But the vampire named Giles didn't look back at Angel, but straight at him. "The Old Ones live in the shell of a water treatment plant on Vaughn and Park. But good luck getting anywhere near them." 

"Die, mutant scum!" A vamp shouted, a young man who emerged from the shadows wearing a flamethrower on his back, the nozzle in his hands coughing orange flames. 

Logan barely spared him a glance before what looked like a tiny blue lightning bolt hit the nozzle of the flamethrower in the vamp's hand, twining around and inside the nozzle. 

The tank on his back blew up rather spectacularly, vomiting fiery debris all over the mall atrium, and it looked like several shops were starting to catch fire, not just the remains of the vampire. 


	5. Part 5

"Anyone else have a brilliant idea?" Naomi asked, coming up beside him. Tendrils of electricity like blue snakes continuously circled her left hand and upper arm, and the closer she got, the more the hair on his arms and neck stood on end. Anyone touching her now would probably get a lethal charge. As she admitted, she couldn't kill vampires with her power, but a few thousand volts through anything-alive or undead-hurt like a motherfucker. 

"Oh great, volt girl," the blonde girl muttered, with a roll of her eyes. Naomi had mentioned having had several run ins with vampires before, and they didn't like her much. Who'd have guessed? 

Logan looked back at the tweedy Giles, whose grey blue eyes had never wavered. "Can vampires get close?" 

"To The Old Ones? No." He shook his head for emphasis. " We can get closer than Humans, but not by much. In spite of what we like to think, we're lesser demons. We'll go as mad as anyone else." 

He thought about that for a moment. "What about Dru?" 

Giles furrowed his brow in contemplation. "Because she's already insane? I'm not sure..." 

"What about the Weird Sisters? I know they ain't straight vampires." He had no idea why, but Logan felt that Giles was probably the most trustworthy vampire here. 

Certainly Angel seemed to be completely full of shit. 

Giles could only shrug. "I'm really not sure about them. But they might have a better chance than Dru. They're certainly more lucid." 

That went without saying. By now, a great deal of the mall atrium on the left side was on fire, and Angel and his girlfriend looked like they were trying to back around the fountain and preparing to make a break for it. He honestly didn't care if they did; he'd leave their fate up to Naomi. 

"Know where they are?" 

Giles shook his head. A sign over an old shoe store had burned enough that it collapsed to the floor in a shower of sparks, and it was then that Angel and the girl made a break for it. They both let them go. Giles didn't even glance at them. "No, I'm afraid not. They never returned after they went to intercept you. If I'm interpreting what Drusilla said correctly, they ran off." 

"Damn it." He should have guessed they were too smart to stick around. 

Naomi coughed discreetly, and said, "Think we should get going before the roof completely catches?" 

The place had gone up pretty quickly; there must have been a lot of fuel in the tank. The smoke was starting to become black and as cloying as damp cotton, and his eyes were starting to water. He grunted in agreement, and said, "Come on, Giles. If you don't do anything funny, I ain't gonna cap you." 

"Actually, I rather wish you would," he admitted sheepishly. "I'm not a very good vampire, and I'm sure that arrogant ponce Angelus has all the excuse he needs to kill me now. Slowly. I'd rather stay here and take my chances with the flames." 

"Burning to death doesn't sound like a good way to die," Naomi pointed out before breaking into a coughing fit. Yes, they were going to have to leave. It was starting to get pretty damn hot too. 

"I'm already dead," Giles pointed out wearily. "Why do I care?" 

He was the weirdest vampire Logan had ever met-one with a genuine conscience. How often did that happen? "You wanna snuff it? Great, I get that. But how do you feel about some bullshit noble death?" 

Giles raised an eyebrow, clearly interested, and Logan knew he had him. 

    10 

    Lucifer figured he'd have to light a fire under Bob to get any reaction out of him, but he was completely flabbergasted to hear him singing. 

"- zen, everything's zen, I don't think so," Bob sang, although in a much more subdued voice than usual. 

Lucifer could feel the subtle change in the air, the shiver of a nascent dimensional portal quivering between atoms and waiting for a glut of power to burst it wide open. Two of the Old Ones were off to the far side, parallel to Bob's spot on the wall, working on converting the power from Bob into something they could use. 

The Old Ones were sometimes referred to as 'giant squids' by those who were able to look at them and not go nuts, and that was roughly accurate, although it came nowhere near capturing their appalling hideousness. It was a grave insult to squids, really. 

They had seven tentacles apiece, and each were twenty feet long, ending at tips that were-in spite of appearances-quite sharp (they had a single retractable claw in each). Their bodies were shapeless mounds of discolored flesh, a rough oblong of black and brown and grey mottled rubbery skin (like food left in a refrigerator so long, and so covered with mold you have no idea what it was originally), about twenty eight feet high and almost as big around. If you could stand to look for a face you'd be disappointed: they had seven fist sized eyes of complete white scattered asymmetrically around one side of their bodies like bullet wounds, and a black beak like mouth roughly in the center, that could widen to such an impossible dimension they could pop you whole in their mouth if they so desired and eat you like a canape. But they rarely bothered with such crudity (although they wallowed in filth), especially since they could cause madness with a look, and kill with a word. Why sink so low? 

"I'm a little too rich for their blood," Bob said, with  weary sort of cheerfulness. "They needed to take a time out. Thought I was trying to blow their goiter like heads up." 

"Were you?" 

"Ah, now that would be telling." 

Bob looked horrible, which was a punishment in itself. Sweat had plastered his hair to his head (although, oddly enough, it looked lighter instead of darker, not so much golden as almost translucent, like frozen rays of sunlight casually draped over his scalp), and his skin seemed to be thinning, or his veins were moving closer to the surface, because what flesh was visible behind the metal keeping him plastered against the wall was crisscrossed with lines of molten blue, capillaries, veins, arteries, and things people didn't even begin to have. He was like the relief map of a hellish highway system devised by M. C. Escher. Lucifer wondered idly when he was going to completely lose the Human guise. 

"What the fuck came after you?" Lucifer asked, so gratified at Bob's wasted appearance he almost lost his angry edge. "They seem to think it's a mutant, but it's more than that, ain't it? A whelp of yours?" 

"You sound frightened, Luce," he said, raising his chin from his chest. His eyes were solid blue now, no white left, and the spider webs of blue veins beneath the surface of his cheeks looked like tattoos. 

He scowled up at him. "I'm not the one being drained like a chianti bottle in an Italian restaurant. The rift is almost open." 

"And you're almost dead." Bob replied, almost sounding sorry about it. 

Lucifer shook his head and scoffed in disbelief. This guy was incredible. "When do you give up the act? That Human hybrid ain't getting in the door. Or are you so deluded from years of living among the Humans that you actually think you can't get killed?" 

"He's not a hybrid, as far as I can tell. He's just a mutant." 

Lucifer threw up his hands. "So what? He's dead too." 

"Did you ever think about it?" 

Lucifer glared up at him, noticing the blue streaks on the wall beneath him, his blood still leaking down from the hole in his chest. "Think about what? Your death? Yes." 

"Evolution. Curious thing. So Humans basically evolved from animals, taking over from demons who left it all behind. But not all the demons left, did they? Some even came back. But most of the demon attacks left dead humans, so there was no growth there." 

Lucifer groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Delirious and you still won't fucking shut up." 

"But eventually there was a blip in the blueprint of the Human genome, and mutants started showing up. Mutants who often had demon like powers; powers that could be used against demons quite well. So it seems the Humans finally started to adapt to presence of demons in their world, whether they knew it or not-" 

"Is there a point at all, or is this just some sort of vocal diarrhea?" He snapped bitterly. Did Bob ever shut up? When he was dead, would he still somehow talk? 

"So did you ever think-did it ever occur to you-that evolution could come to such a point that maybe one of the new Humans could kill a god? Not the Slayer, which you know doesn't count. I'm just talking an off the street mutant." 

"That could never happen. They wouldn't allow it." He was rambling like a drunk. The Old Ones really must have done a number on him. 

But the look on Bob's weary, blue veined face seemed remarkably pensive. "They don't interfere in Human matters." 

"They would in that." 

"No, I don't think so. It would never occur to them it could happen. They do have a terminal arrogant streak." 

Well, he had to give him that. "Okay, yeah, but that would never happen. Humans are one step above animals at best." 

"But pets turn on their masters every day, and sometimes they kill them. Even the most harmless animal is capable of lethal action, under the right circumstances." 

Lucifer stared up at Bob, but found his completely blue eyes unreadable. "Are you saying you think this mutant friend of yours could kill a god?" 

"Actually, he already has. He just thinks I did it." 

"Huh?" 

"It's a long story, and I don't think you have the time." 

He scowled at him, aware that the scent of his blood was becoming overwhelming. At first it had smelled like blood, which he could deal with, but now it smelled like ultraviolet, like infrared and the heart of a nuclear furnace, and it was so offensive it was worse than the sewer sludge reek of the Old Ones. "No, you don't have the time, Bob." 

Bob chuckled faintly. "Oh, how I wish that were true. But I have all the time in the world. This one and all the others." 

Lucifer shook his head. Arrogant and now completely delusional. He felt a peculiar amount of pity for him.It wasn't a case of the mighty falling more than the case of a prodigal son moldering in a grave he made for himself so long ago. 

Lucifer didn't get him, would never get him. Instead of trying to take his rightful place after he found out what he was, Bob chose to bide his time and stay among the savages. When he asked him about that long ago, over beers in a Melbourne bar (they tasted terrible, but Bob seemed to like it), Bob had said, "I had suffered a lot to find my place with people and other demons. I had lost my wife and kids not long before that, and I knew I wasn't goin' anywhere. I didn't want to go. Why would I? My flesh and blood was here. This was really the only home I knew, the one I had fought for, and frankly, it needed me. If it ever stops needing me maybe I'll go. But I don't really see that happening." 

He didn't understand. Humans were foul beasts, and whether Bob chose to breed with them or not was beside the point (and frankly disgusting anyways). Lucifer wondered if there was a deeper point that Bob didn't mention. After all, most dimensions had a ruler or a governing body of rulers or people fighting over the position. The dimension Bob dwelled in didn't really have one, although several things had tried to take a foothold (and none had successfully). He wondered if Bob was the self-appointed and quietly hidden uber-lord of that Earthly realm. Would it shock him terribly? Things were so fucked up there. 

(But the Humans were still in charge there, weren't they? In spite of everything...) 

"So who is this mutant to you? Son in law? Distant relation? Boyfriend?" 

"Friend." 

Lucifer scoffed. "How can you be friends with a hamster?" 

"He's a very nasty hamster." 

Bob was dying, and yet he still refused to take this seriously. Unbelievable. " You know you've killed him by having him come after you." 

"You can't kill what refuses to die, Lucy." 

"I told you not to call me that," he snapped, looking around the mucky ground for something to throw at him. But there was nothing but the grime, which was a combination of dirt, shit, Bob's blood, and Old Ones effluvia, and there was no way in hell he was touching that. "What the hell's that supposed to mean anyways?" 

"Lucy?" 

He glowered up at him, but he doubted Bob even noticed. "Not killing what refuses to die, or whatever the hell?" 

"Just what I said. Some people have wills that would scare the shit out of you." 

Lucifer shook his head and walked away, not sure where he was going, except he knew he was not leaving the building. The Old Ones were very close to opening the gateway, and there was no way in hell he wanted to meet Bob's giant killer. Not that he was afraid of, oh no, it was just his blood wasn't the blood he wanted to shed. 

Now all he had to do was sit back and wait for the real floor show to begin. 

** 

    They had to flip a coin for it, but finally his luck turned good, and Logan got to drive Naomi's motorcycle while she held on for the ride. 

It was nice to feel her holding on to him, arms wrapped around his stomach, body pressed against his back as they leaned into the wind. He liked the feeling too much; it was getting distracting. So he focused on the funnel of light the high beam cut into the thick darkness, aware of the feeling of demon eyes on them as he drove over streets and sidewalks heedlessly, occasionally startling one back into the dense shadows that clung to the sides of the crumbling buildings like frightened children. She shouted something about his driving, but he couldn't really hear it due to the combination of the wind and her helmet. But he was willing to bet hard money she just called him a fucking maniac. 

You could tell when they were getting close to the water treatment plant, without trying to read existing street signs. The demons started to thin, the buildings appeared to be more intact, and that sense of phantom pressure - like the universe itself had flipped its natural polarity in just this spot and was trying to fling them away - increased exponentially. 

Eventually he had to pull Naomi's bike over, parking it in an alley between what appeared to be a government building of some sort and a condo. "You okay?" He asked her, as she got off the bike and pulled off her helmet. 

She nodded, although she was making a face like she had a sudden ice cream headache. "Yeah. I hope Giles can catch up with us." 

"He said he'd meet us here. He will or he won't." 

"You're not concerned?" 

He set the kickstand and glanced around. The alley smelled like decay and dried, spoiled blood. This was a fun dimension. "He comes or he doesn't. The plan goes forward with or without him." 

"It's hardly a plan though, is it?" 

She left her helmet hanging on one of the handlebars as they walked to the mouth of the alley and looked out at the street. Still empty, no sound but the skittering of dried leaves and rat's paws on pavement, and it made him instantly suspicious. A city at night - post apocalyptic or not - had no right to be this quiet. 

They decided to travel the rest of the way on foot, as long as they could, so as not to give Lucifer or the Old Ones a heads up they were coming. You could never be too careful. 

"What do you wanna call it?" He asked, as he walked out into the street. He kept expecting something to explode out of the middle of the street any second now. "Desperation ploy number three?" 

"There were two others?" 

He shrugged. "Three sounds better." 

She followed him close enough that he could still feel her body heat, although it was probably pretty intense now that she was charged up. "True." 

The closer they got, the more the pressure in his brain turned into something worse.  
It was now like a hornet was trapped inside his skull, buzzing furiously, burrowing its way into his soft brain tissue, looking for something sensitive to sting. 

Naomi hesitated, grabbing her head, and he asked her again, "Are you all right?" 

"Do you feel that?" She asked, never looking up. 

"Yeah." 

"I'm not sure I can go much further." 

The direction of the wind shifted, and he smelled the dead. Not just any dead. 

Vampires. 

"That's good, because you aren't going any farther," Angel's voice said, and Logan glanced around to see a bunch of vamps - with Angel and his blonde jailbait girlfriend behind them, at the end of the street. There were about a dozen other vampires behind them as well, some armed with torches, others with sawed off shotguns. Logan glanced over his shoulder, at the head of the street, and there were about ten there, all looking very pained and pissed off, and Logan noticed at least one of them had a genuine grenade on her belt. 

Logan glared at Angel, and asked, "Haven't you had enough?" 

Angel glared back, brown eyes as hard and flat as the pavement below their feet. "You think you can burn my place down, kill my people, and still live, asshole?" 

"And do you think I didn't think you'd do somethin' like this?" Logan spat back, his slender patience gone, dissolved by the angry wasp inside his skull. "You vamps are always so fucking predictable." 

"I beg to differ," a cultured British voice said, and the crowd of vampires behind Angel parted slightly as Giles made his way through them. Obviously they didn't know he was vampire non gratis yet. 

But Angel did, and he immediately spun on his heels and snapped, "Grab him." 

Two muscular young vamps did just that, and Giles acquiesced without a fight, although his left hand remained clenched in a tight fist. No one had noticed yet. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, traitor?" Angel spat at him. 

The ex-Watcher gazed at him with something that looked very much like amused pity, and Logan realized that Giles was about to alter the plan slightly. Son of a bitch. 

"I came here to watch you die, you motherfucking , sheep buggering prick, "Giles said with great relish. It sounded almost classy in that accent of his. Angel backhanded him across the face, drawing blood, but it only made Giles chuckle. His blue eyes scudded over to the blonde girl, and as he opened his left hand, he said, with genuine regret, "I'm sorry, Buffy." 

Logan barely had time to knock Naomi to the macadam and attempt to cover her with his body as the dead man's switch in Giles's hand activated, and the incendiary bomb he had brought with him went up with a roar so deafening it seemed like the entire sky was falling down. 

He got an accidental shock for his trouble, but he'd had worse, and certainly the flaming body parts and clots of ash raining down on them was worse than a little static shock. 

He was pretty sure by the smell and the wave of heat that washed over him that some of his hair had been burned off, but he had so much he bet it would be impossible to tell. 

The rest of the vamps not lit on fire seemed stunned, and Naomi tried to shrug him off, saying, "I'm okay, I just need a clear shot." 

He moved off of her as she looked up at the remaining vampires -all down the street from them- and lifted her hands towards them. He was standing well back, risking the flames, as electricity shot from Naomi's hands and hit the ten stupefied vampires.  
Blue tendrils of electricity shot from one to another (humans -alive or dead- made great conductors) and they staggered and fell, some unconscious, others just faintly smoldering. 

Logan got to his feet and started after the ones still standing, popping his claws. "Who wants some?" 

No one answered, but he guessed the answer was nobody, as all those could flee the scene did so. It was actually a little disappointing, as he was hoping to have a little warm up fight before the big show. 

"Well, there's a plan fucked to hell," Naomi noted crossly, looking back at the fiery mess that was all that was left of Angel and his troops. The actual plan had been for Giles -who could get a little closer to the Old Ones than they could, being a vampire- to get as close to possible as the Old Ones in their underground access and set off the incendiary bomb. It probably wouldn't kill the Old Ones -Giles told them he had been a Watcher before he got turned (it was why he got turned), and it was unknown if the Old Ones could even be hurt at all- but since it was a sewer tunnel access (methane) the whole thing would go up like Mount Vesuvius. "And Bob would survive that?" Naomi had wondered at the time. Logan was forced to shrug, and at her horrified look, he admitted, "I'm not sure Bob can be killed either, so I think he and the Oldies are even. But I'm thinkin' Lucifer wouldn't survive that." 

Giles confirmed that to be true. Lucifer would burn up as good as anyone else. 

Of course, so would Angel, and he should have guessed he'd use it on him if the opportunity arose. He and Naomi could have fought their way through Angel's vamp army with little difficulty, but the opportunity for vengeance came, and- British or not- Giles took it. 

"They know we're coming now," Naomi said, looking up at him. She was sitting on the street, making no move to get up, and judging from the pained look on her face he supposed he could guess why. 

"Can't be helped. You wanna stay here and cover my back?" 

She frowned up at him, and got unsteadily to her feet. "I can go a little farther." 

"I don't want you to," he admitted, then added, "If I go nuts and come chargin' back here, I need you to knock me out. How many volts you think I can take?" 

This was a risky gamble. She probably knew he wanted her desperately to hang back, to not come with, but she couldn't know it was simply because he didn't want her risking her life again for him. Okay, it was a different Naomi in a different place and time, but none of that mattered: he just wasn't going to let it happen if he could help it. But she was a stubborn woman -why did he have to have a thing for difficult women?- and would probably assume his intent. His only hope was that the Old Ones were getting to her enough that she'd agree to linger behind. He was pretty sure he could smell Tallulah lingering around, possibly having a look see at the burning street. 

"Not enough to help your hairstyle," she replied, giving him a tight smile. He took that as a good sign: at least she was playing along. 

He gave her a sarcastic grimace for that. "Ha. Be ready to zap me if you have to." 

"Gladly," she replied, with a wink. But it seemed pained, and even Logan had to mentally cringe at the drill bit of pain boring its way through the back of his brain. 

"Come on, Tallulah," he said to thin air, turning away from Naomi. It was hard to do, but it was always better for her if he just kept on walking. "Let's go see these big uglies for ourselves." 

The pain was a hum, a thick white noise in his brain as he rounded the corner onto Park Street, and he wondered if 'shutting off' his higher mind and just letting instinct take over would do any good at all. 

    11 

    Tallulah woke up suddenly, saying, "Holy crap, he's going to try and go see the Old Ones." She sat up, and looked at Amaranth before looking at her. "Can that work?" 

"Ah shit," Helga groaned, rubbing her forehead. She had a feeling, in spite of all the warnings, that Logan would be just stupid, pigheaded, and angry enough to do just that. What were warnings of instant insanity to him? As he always claimed, he'd "had worse". Bob told her once that was most likely true, across the board. 

"No, that can't work," Amaranth replied sharply. "He's just a Human. A remarkably belligerent, clawed Human, but still one all the same." 

Tallulah rubbed her own temples with the tips of her fingers, and explained, "I don't know how close we got to those things, but they gave me a headache somehow." 

"You shouldn't risk getting much closer," Helga advised her, feeling a vague sense of defeat. Tally was their only connection to what was going on in the other realm, and if she had to beg out, they'd just have to wait until Bob was strong enough to send them back, or until Ammy sensed something had gone wrong with Bob. Helga wasn't sure she could take that. She'd already chewed her fingernails to the quick, and she just hated feeling so concerned about anyone. It really wasn't in her nature to do so, or at least it didn't used to be. Bob was a bad influence at times. And he had to get back here so she could kick his ass about it. 

"But there's a part of Bob in him, right?" Tally said, attempting optimism. She was one of those types that always tried to look on the bright side of things; if she was on board the Titanic as it sank, she'd have probably pointed out that at least they could all go swimming now ,and cold water was really good for the pores. "So maybe he can get closer than we think?" 

"Maybe," she sighed in reply, not convinced, but she wasn't about to disabuse Tally of any of her hope. It was nice that someone had some. Helga looked at Amaranth, who'd once again taken her seat on the floor, and asked, "Would any protection spell do any good?" 

She didn't even pretend to think about it before shaking her head. "Even if I could aim it towards them in another dimension, I don't think there's a powerful enough spell to protect anyone from the Old Ones." 

Helga hadn't really thought so, but she figured she should ask. 

She folded her legs underneath her, and tried not to twitch her tail too much and give away her anxiousness. 

It seemed like all they could do now was wait. And there was almost nothing in the world she hated more than that. 

** 

    It was like something was eating its way through his brain casing. 

The bone saw, the bone saw buzz invading his cranium, the pain so intense it was almost vibrant, alive with its own energy. Reminded him of that movie where that alien ate its way through the guy, burst out his chest, although Logan knew this one was going to explode out the top of his skull. 

He stopped - he kept having to stop, to find things to lean against - and for good or for ill he was starting to lose his sense of smell. If that wasn't enough to leave him feeling unbalanced, color seemed to be bleeding out of his vision. He was his senses - how could he do anything without his senses? 

He tried to pull it together, but it was harder than it seemed. The pain was relentless; his system tried to heal it, only to have it open again instantaneously.  
If it was just pain he could take it, but he was finding it increasingly hard to think. He was doing something, but he wasn't always sure what or why, and keeping   
a single coherent thought seemed impossible. 

He had to...keep going forward, because...because...there was a reason, he was sure there was. But right now he just wanted to go find someplace away from the noise in his head, the incessant buzz, the drone that felt like a painful sliver in his soul.  
He couldn't, though. He didn't know why he couldn't, he just couldn't. 

Logan stumbled down the grey and black street, the buzzing growing louder, a swarm of angry bees in his head, and a scent got through to him, close and familiar. A person, a woman...he supposed he knew her, but he couldn't remember now. 

He couldn't remember anything. He could barely remember to put one foot in front of another. 

He staggered on, hoping this would start making sense. 

** 

    One of the Old Ones made a noise that sounded like someone running a cat along a cheese grater, and Lucifer gritted his teeth and winced until the sound came to an end. 

"That's not good," Bob said, sounding amused. 

"Shut up," Lucifer snapped, having to pause and think a moment to figure out what it had just said. The Old Ones language was so complex and hard to understand it usually took him a minute to interpret it. 

"Something's coming and they don't like it," Bob said, interpreting for him."They're sending a scout to go take care of it." 

"Good," Lucifer replied, glaring up at the know it all smart ass. 

But Bob smiled weakly down at him, looking triumphant in spite of bloody tears dripping down his face. "Exactly." 

"Shouldn't you be concerned about your friend?" 

Bob grinned, baring blue streaked teeth. "In a meeting between the two, I think the scout is going to be the most sorry about it." 

Maybe Bob had finally gone nuts too. "He'll lose his tiny mind." 

Bob continued to give him a toothy grin, which became more unnerving the more inhuman his face became. "He's had worse." 

Now Lucifer knew Bob had completely lost it. A shame, as he wanted him fully cognizant when everything went to hell. 

** 

    He knew something was coming, but he didn't know what -good or bad- or from where until it exploded up through the street. 

Logan looked dumbly at the erupting chunks of concrete and macadam, not understanding it or the big long rubbery things that suddenly shot of the new hole in the street, looking like fat snakes that somehow learned how to defy the laws of gravity. 

It was when the snakes slithered across the remaining pavement and one of them wrapped around his ankle that everything changed. 

The time bomb in his head went off. The burrowing maggots in his brain metamorphosed into angry wasps and stung every axon simultaneously; the pain was impossible, incredible, made his vision flare to white as he screamed and dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around his head to keep his brain from squirting out his ears like so much liquefied oatmeal. 

But as he was dragged towards the hole, clothes tearing and skin ripping on the macadam, a certain clarity of vision washed in after the bright white tide of pain. This thing, this that had him, was hurting him, was boiling his brain in blood and spinal fluid, a pain he could taste like rusted metal in his mouth, and he understood for it to stop he would have to stop it. 

His claws popped from his hands almost unconsciously, and he lashed out violently and randomly, aiming for anything that moved. 

Claws slashed through snakes that seemed more like rubber than muscle, a high pitched screech shattering windows as he cut the snake in half, and black, oil thick blood fountained out of the remains. It smelled like...stagnant water, ashes, decaying animal flesh and fire, and it made him furious for reasons he could not understand. But the thing was still alive, still moving and still screaming, and the fire raged inside his brain, starting to spill down his spinal column. 

He didn't know who he was or what was going on, but he knew that thing was trying to hurt him, and he hated it. 

Stumps withdrew, leaving thick black smears of blood in their wake, and whole snakes emerged, one coming flailing down at him as if straight from the starless night sky itself. 

He remembered to move, scrambling away as the tentacle hit the ground with the force of a Road Ranger dropped from low earth orbit, chunks of pavement flying out like shrapnel as the macadam shattered, and he saw a dome of mottled, discolored flesh rising from the hole in the ground. He wasn't really capable of coherent thought, but one thing occurred to him, and kept repeating in his head like an idiot mantra: it it it it it it. That was it, the source of the pain, and he hated it. 

He jumped down on top of it, fleshy thing like an animal hide filled with gelatin, and drove in his claws as the thing screamed and moved like a tidal wave, throwing him down into a dark tunnel that smelled like shit and these beasts. 

His eardrums shattered, making warm blood dribble from his ears, but the pain was small in comparison to the consumptive pain of his mind being eaten by venomous insects, and he didn't even notice. 

But the smell of his own blood triggered something in him, a new swell of anger that   
made him feel like he was now burning, a human torch of pure, bright rage. 


	6. Part 6

He slashed out at anything that moved, claws sparking whenever they hit the walls, and he felt the thing scream, something like a sonic wave moving through him, and it began to withdraw its bulk, like yards upon yards of decomposing flesh, deeper into the rank tunnels. He started to follow, still meeting its attempts at hits or grabs with slashes of his claws that sliced it open, and in spite of the rank stench of its thick blood as it splattered on him, it began to feel like victory. 

** 

    The noise seemed to shake the ground, and judging from the noises the other Old Ones made, it wasn't a good thing.  
Lucifer looked up at Bob, and asked, "What the fuck was that?" 

Bob looked wearily down at him, his face striated with runnels of blue. It looked like he was bleeding from the scalp, as if his entire face might just peel off any second now. "An Old One screaming in pain," Bob told him, unable to smile but managing to smirk with one corner of his mouth. "It didn't sign up for this kind of shit." 

"You're lying." he didn't even know why he said. Of course he was lying - Bob was spectacularly good at that. 

"It's been hurt by an animal, and it doesn't like that." 

"Nothing can get close enough to an Old One to hurt it," Lucifer pointed out, sure he was on solid ground. "Except you, and you're right here." 

But Bob looked down at him like one of those creepy crucified Humans they liked to put up in some of their churches, and gave him a grin that was more gloating and predatory than anything he'd seen from him before. "You think I didn't know you were sniffing around, Lucy? Now what kind of business would I be if I couldn't pick up the shift in that tide?" 

He glared up at his solid cobalt eyes, refusing to believe this. Bob was desperate, he knew he was going to lose and was spouting complete shit. (But what if he wasn't?) "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"It means that one day I met the perfect assassin. Retired, in a way, but still remarkable in several respects. Top of the list was that he'd been hurt so much pain was no longer a deterrent. He didn't like it, but it didn't stop him, and, as a result, the only fears he had weren't related to pain at all. Although it's an over simplification to say he's a man without fear, let's just say that's good enough for our purposes. He'd been fucked over so much by telepaths his mind had learned to adjust itself; it could heal itself over like flesh wound. But the most remarkable thing was my energy couldn't kill him-well, not unless I really meant it.  Believe me, I didn't." 

This had to be complete bullshit. There was no way Bob could...was there? 

The fear that seized Lucifer was so sudden it felt like a panic attack. "Avatar!" He shouted to the two Old Ones in the wallow with them. "Bob has an avatar and it's attacking! Do something, damn it!" 

There was some sort of growling/squealing conversation between the Old Ones as the painful noises continued echoing through the connecting sewer tunnels. He still couldn't quite believe it (Since when was Bob that powerful? Since when were Humans that strong?) , and as he tried to follow the drift of the Old Ones conversation, he heard Bob chuckling to himself after another shriek of pain down the tunnel.  "Wolverine's ripped my flesh," Bob said, apropos of nothing. 

Lucifer determined what the Old Ones were going to do as they shifted their heavy bodies in their direction, and he looked up at Bob with a triumphant laugh. "They figure if they drain you completely, you're no good to your avatar, and the Others are at our mercy. What did you think about that, asshole?" 

The calculating, cold smile never left Bob's face. "I think you're a day late and a dollar short, mate." 

Lucifer backed up as the Old Ones clustered around Bob, but even as they reached their tentacles towards him, Bob asked him, "I hope you think it's a good day to die, Ceph. Just remember it never had to be this way." 

It was just his arrogance. There was no way this was done, no way Bob had won just because his avatar had gotten past the first scout. 

But Lucifer slipped down a clear sewer tunnel anyways, headed for the surface. It was always best to clear a battlefield until the war was over. 

    12 

    He started after it, the thing that screamed inside his mind and was dissolving his brain like sulfuric acid,  but something made him stop. A smell. 

A strange smell in this fetid sewer, a familiar one, one he'd smelled in the upper world before this thing attacked him... 

It was near him, and yet it was not. He looked around and saw nothing but concrete walls blackened with slime and waste, splatters of blood like septic matter and chunks of rubbery dark flesh, some of which was still moving as if unaware it had be detached from the rest of the body.  It smelled like...him, but different; something like him...but he was alone here, the beast withdrawing deeper into the tunnels behind him. 

But that other scent, surface world, seemed to be swirling towards the opposite end of the tunnel, and for a moment he didn't know which way to go. In spite of his rage urging him after the creature, the buzzing hot pain in his mind seemed to ebb a little, and he thought he should see if that other world person was here. Maybe they worked with the beast; maybe they were another victim. 

The farther he went down the tunnel the more he began to see light - pale at first, with a decidedly blue tint - and then the pain started to return, somehow greater than before. It was like a buzzsaw  tearing up the tissue behind his eyes, and his hearing started coming back in like a slow tide. The noises he heard were hollow and distant, but slid along his burning nerves like razor blades, and he knew he hated it. Didn't matter what it was; he would do anything to stop that noise. 

The familiar scent was gone, but it no longer mattered, as anger had taken over and he didn't remember what else he had come after in the first place. 

There was a new noise - more felt than heard, something that seemed to turn his insides to liquid and drop him to knees - but as soon as it stopped he used the slime slicked wall to help him back up to his feet and went after...it.   

Again the idiot mantra, the only thing he could hold in his head for any length of time. 

The tunnel came out in a wide pit, filled with filth and blood and...it. Two of them, far from him, clustered against a wall around something bright blue. The true light source, something like a diamond shaped sliver of light so bright it was painful to look at, and he heard...singing? "When the dawn breaks, with a hand shake,relaxed and feeling great. Collision-" 

He looked away from the light, cringing, as it seemed to stab through the back of his skull. Suddenly he heard a voice say, "Thanks Logan, I think I can take it from here." 

In the same voice, but now outside his head, the singer added, "-head on." 

And reality seemed to explode. 

Blue light like acid erupted and blinded him, while those sonic waves of screams spiraled up to an impossible pitch, liquefying his bones and nerves, rupturing everything in its path through his mind. He may have screamed, but he couldn't hear, and he couldn't feel his body, didn't know if he was standing or flattened under the sonic assault of unholy, brutal noise. 

For one blissful moment, it all stopped - noise, pain, sense of self - and he was swamped in blood warm darkness. 

** 

    "Logan?" 

A woman's voice, familiar, and yet somehow chilling. 

He shoved himself up to a sitting position on the hardwood floor, and looked around, confused. Something had happened...something elsewhere, something violent...but this room was familiar in a way that wasn't clear. 

It wasn't much of a room, really, just a sparsely decorated bedroom with all the usual stuff: bed, chest of drawers, nightstands, wing chair tucked in a far corner and looking orphaned somehow. But one unusual thing caught his eye and maybe his stomach clench in sudden anxiety - a neon palm tree. 

He looked over his shoulder, and standing in the open doorway was a woman. She was petite and slender, dressed in a demure business outfit of a long black skirt and a royal blue blouse with shell buttons, sleek black hair held away from her face by a silver hair clip with a bright blue design like the eye of peacock feather, but for some reason she was barefoot. She was lovely, with a delicately featured face highlighted by warm brown eyes, but the sight of her seemed to paralyze him, make him feel instantly ice cold.  It seemed to take him a moment to work his vocal cords. "M-Mariko?" He had a sudden feeling he shouldn't be here. He couldn't remember where he was before, although he had the impression it was some place very bad,  but still he thought he shouldn't be here. His heart began to race, and he wasn't sure he was breathing. 

She looked down at him with a curious kindness. "What is it?" 

Was this a memory? Did something get shaken loose in his head?Or was this Bob's doing somehow? 

(Maybe he was dead. Again. But maybe this time it would stick.) 

He didn't know what to say. Finally seeing her face seemed to turn him to stone, and he couldn't think more than he could breathe or speak. 

She came over to him, and his first instinct was to back up, run away, but he'd have to stand to do that, and movement was momentarily beyond him. She knelt down in front of him, and gave him a weak smile. "You look like you've seen a ghost." 

Did she know she was dead? "Am I dead?" He asked. 

She touched him, hand smoothing across his cheek to the back of his neck. She felt warm, and she smelled exactly right, like musk and green tea, cinnamon and almond. He didn't know how he remembered what she smelled like, but he did, buried somewhere in his memory, and he knew it was right. "No, sweetheart. I didn't think you could die." 

This close to her, he felt like he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces, and her touch made it all seem far too real and dangerous. "I wish I could," he admitted, and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the side of her long, slender neck. The smell of her and her body heat was just too much, and he was horrified to feel tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he told her, trying hard to swallow back sobs. It was the only thing he could think to say to her. 

Her arms slid around him, warm and surprisingly strong, and she whispered, "Shh. It's okay." 

"It'll never be okay." Now he was crying in earnest, and mentally cursing at himself to stop seemed to do no good at all. He was a fucking failure all the way around, but especially when it came to her. 

She stroked his hair soothingly, kissed his ear, and he wondered if this wasn't some sort of afterlife thing, what the hell was it?It had to be Bob's doing; was there any other explanation? 

Oh, he was going to kill Bob. 

"Forgive me," he whispered, not completely sure if he was asking forgiveness for being a weepy baby man or for failing to save her. Maybe both. 

"There's nothing to forgive, but I'll say it if it will make you feel better." He got a sense that her delicate appearance completely belied a more fiery personality, but that would make sense - he had a thing for difficult women. 

"I failed you." 

"No, love, you were the one person that never did," she replied, brushing her lips over his hair, kissing him softly on the forehead. 

He didn't deserve her; he knew then it was a stupid fluke he'd ever gotten her. 

He held her tight, unable to stop from sobbing, obscurely wishing she'd get angry at him or hit or something. He could deal with anger, he was used to that. He didn't know how to deal with this. 

But he had seen her face; he remembered what she looked like. Maybe now he'd remember her. 

** 

    "Are you gonna sleep all day or what?" 

Logan woke up with a jolt, not sure where the fuck he was-in other words, in a typical manner. Still, waking up in what looked liked a big sewer pit was a new one for him. "Jesus fucking christ, how did I get here?" He asked, sitting up, and then gave an accusatory glare at Bob. 

Bob stepped back and held his hands up in a surrendering manner. "I had nothing to do with the location. How much do you remember?" 

A curious question. Remember of what...oh. "The plan went tits up, but I was gonna go get the Old Ones anyways..." he saw his hands were covered with sticky black goo. Some of it was the sewer muck, but a lot of it wasn't. It was also all over his torn clothes, and he could feel/smell some of it on his face. "Did I?" 

"You did great," Bob assured him. "You kicked ass." 

"Don't I always?" He got up to his feet, trying not to show his basic unsteadiness, and tried to recall what else may have happened. His head hurt, and since that never happened he had to assume things had gotten pretty bad. 

(Had he really seen Mariko? What was that about?) 

Bob looked...interesting.  He was wearing those long, ugly green and yellow shorts he once saw him wearing in a mindscape (which tracked since he was supposedly surfing when he was kidnapped) , a bright blue mesh tank top,  
and a necklace with a little jade Ganesha on it, but that was it. He looked a little pale for him, and his hair seemed a bit more gold than brown,  but otherwise he looked fine, and remarkably clean. Even barefoot in the muck, he still appeared untouched by the dirt. 

Unlike Logan, who was just dripping with blood, guts, and worse things. He felt like the super hero sidekick who did all the dirty work, while the other guy got all the glory (and managed to look good doing it). 

Looking around the muddy pit, he noticed nothing but the greyish brown black muck, and some twisted bits of torn metal, but nothing else. "Where are they?" 

Bob looked around, feigning an innocence that never fit him. "Who?" 

He scowled at him. "The Three Stooges. Who the fuck else, Bob? The Old Ones!' 

"Oh. Let's say they've gone to a better place." 

Although he was covered in blood, Logan couldn't help but none of the blood was in the pit. He thought he smelled a lot of it in the tunnel behind him, but that was it. "I didn't kill the ones in here, did I?" 

Bob smiled at him. "You can't kill the Old Ones." 

Logan raised an eyebrow at the answer between the lines. "But you can?" 

Bob continued to grin at him, and simply sidestepped the question altogether. "Come on - Lucy's done a runner, and I think he needs to be told nobody likes a coward." 

"Lucy?" 

"Lucifer." 

Logan nodded in understanding, but he still asked, "Why won't you admit you killed them?" 

Bob's smile was almost beatific. " 'Cause, mate, I don't have that kind of power. I've just moved them on." 

"Moved them where? Another dimension?" 

Bob nodded, but Logan was sure he was being bullshitted. "What about the people there?" 

"There's no people there." He clapped him on the shoulder, and giving him a Cheshire cat grin, assured him, "I've just sent them to Hell." 

That really didn't clear things up. "Do you mean you killed them or just sent them to a hell dimension?" 

"Yes." 

Logan glared at him. "I hate you." 

Bob just laughed, like he feared he might. "I love ya too, mate." 

"Oh, that reminds me." He threw a right cross, and was as stunned as Bob when he actually made contact with his face. 

Bob staggered back, grabbing his nose (which hadn't broke, like most noses would; weird) (or maybe not, considering it was Bob. The weird thing was he made contact at all), and said crossly, "'ey, what the fuck was that for?" 

"What the fuck did you put in my head?" He snapped, trying not to let his shock show. How in the hell did he successfully hit Bob?Well, he did it on a moment's angry impulse, but Bob should have read that on the wall. Maybe Bob got complacent, and figured he wouldn't actually hit him. 

"Ah, I see." Bob rubbed his nose, but straightened up, apparently fine. He didn't seem angry either. "If I told ya it was residual energy, you'd just try and thump me again, wouldn't you?" 

Logan just nodded. 

Bob actually smiled, taking things as seriously as always (which meant not at all).  "Sorry to use you like that, mate, but I got a feelin' someone was after me, and people after me usually have to block or drain my powers some way. So I didn't think you'd mind holdin' on to a bit for me until I needed it." 

"I did mind," he snapped bitterly. "Next time ask." 

"Done," Bob agreed, perhaps a little too easily. 

"I know I owe you, but-" 

"No, you don't owe me, Logan, and I was out of line. I'm sorry.  I wasn't tryin' to use you like everyone else." 

Okay, he was awake, right?He was tempted to slap himself, but if Bob was actually here he didn't want him to watch him do it. "Like everyone else?" 

"I mean in the past. I don't think Xavier's usin' you." 

Logan would swear he heard a 'but' in there. "You don't think, but..?" 

"He's not using you. But I don't think he's come close to admitting how much they need you. I know it seems to you like they're doing you a favor by giving you a steady place to crash, but really you're doing them a bigger favor." 

Logan snorted. "I knew that." Well, he suspected it. 

Bob nodded like he didn't believe him for a minute. "Wanna find Ceph, and then blow this dreary little pop stand?" 

"Yeah, sure. Can I hit you again?" 

"No. First one was free, but the rest'll cost ya." 

"There's always a catch." Logan sighed, following Bob up one of the cleaner sewer tunnels. 

    13 

    On the surface, they split up, since Bob figured "Lucy" had a major head start and a real desire to get as far away from here as possible. 

But what struck Logan as wrong right away was the sun: high in the sky, it was bright enough to make him squint as his eyes adjusted to the light. "Were we down there that long?" He asked, not quite believing it. 

"Time runs differently in the various dimensions." 

"That's not an answer," Logan pointed out, scowling at him. 

But Bob gave him that infuriating grin again, and he wondered if he could land another punch. "You're right, it's not." Before Logan could make any fruitless threats, Bob went off to the left, headed down the nearest alley,  and Logan branched off to the right, trying to pick up any scents he might have picked up below, beyond the Old Ones and Human waste and Bob's electric blood. It was difficult, since he reeked like a Old Ones slaughterhouse, but he thought he picked up...something. 

He followed it through deserted alleys, past the huge crater in the street where the Old One had broken through (he had a vague idea that had happened, but he couldn't quite remember it), and now this place really seemed like a ghost town. There wasn't even any demon movement. It was like the sun had scoured the world clean. 

He remembered how dark the night was when he went down there - it was nowhere near dawn. So unless they spent several hours down there, how had it come up so fast? 

"Can you make the sun come up, Bob?" He muttered to himself, wondering if that was even remotely possible.  
Well, why the hell not? How possible was anything Bob did? 

The buildings looked even worse in the daylight, not only abandoned but like erosion had worked on them for at least fifty years, and if someone told him there were no more Humans living in Sunnydale, he wouldn't have been surprised. 

He just began wondering what had become of Naomi when he suddenly smelled her...and ozone. "Shit!" He exclaimed, quickly diving into a shadowed alley on his left. 

The bolt of electricity hit exactly the spot where he had been, charring the pavement.  "Naomi it's me!" He shouted, sticking to the shadows. He was pretty sure she was across the street, hiding in another clot of shadows. And she wasn't alone. 

"See? I told ya he'd try something like that," a man said. 

"Naomi, that's Lucifer pretending to be me," he shouted, hoping she was all right. If that fucker hurt her, he'd strangle him with his own intestines. Assuming he had intestines. 

"He's not even very original," Lucifer complained. 

The bastard. Logan started to inch his way around the building, hoping maybe he'd be able to get across the street from an unexpected vantage point, when he decided to ask, "How did you know it was me? Did he even ask you where you put my bike?" 

"It's my bike, asshole, and why should I care?" Lucifer shouted back. 

Logan hoped Naomi caught that. 

There was a sudden, strangled yelp, and Naomi said, "Okay, Logan, you can come out. I'm not going to zap you." 

He sniffed the air carefully, but it smelled like someone got fried, and Naomi smelled very much like herself. Still, he ventured out warily, only to see Naomi standing over the body of a man in a muck stained white suit. She studied his face carefully, and asked, "How did I ever think he was you?" 

"His power, remember?" 

She nodded. "Hallucinations." 

"Manipulating the mind, making people see things. Cute, huh?" 

She looked up at him, and gave him a tired smile. "Quick thinking on the bike." 

"I love your bike." 

That made her smile even broader, and it was almost painful to see. Seeing her happy brought back painful memories. 

"Oh dear, did he get nuked?" Bob asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. 

Naomi raised her hands, but Logan motioned her to put them down."This rude bastard is Bob. Bob, this is Naomi." 

"Electra Naomi?" He asked, surprised. 

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You know of me?" 

"I know of you from another dimension," he said, then bowed like a knight before a lady of the court. Real funny considering he was wearing shorts loud enough to make your eyes bleed. "A pleasure to meet you here." 

"Thank you," she said, trying not to laugh. "You're much better looking than Logan said you were." 

He rolled his eyes, and Bob grinned at him. "Did he say I looked like a warthog?" 

"No, he said you looked like a surfer bum." 

Bob held out his hands in mock surrender. "Well, I kinda do, but it's not so much a look as a lifestyle." 

She nodded and smiled like she thought he was insane and possibly armed. "Is that Ganesha? Are you Hindu?" 

"No, he's just a mate." Bob then crouched down for a better look at the slightly smoldering Lucifer, and she looked at him and mouthed silently, "Hindu god?" 

He didn't know if she was asking about Ganesha or asking if Bob was a Hindu god,  so he simply shook his head and mouthed back the word, "Later." 

Naomi glanced down at Bob, who seemed to be trying to take Lucifer's pulse, and said, "I gave him a good hard jolt, but he'll probably start coming around in fifteen minutes or so." 

"I doubt it. He's dead, Jim." 

Naomi looked genuinely shocked, but Bob was right: Logan could now smell the death coming off of him, under the heavy scent of roasted flesh. "I didn't give him a lethal charge! I mean, I don't think I did..." 

"You weren't the one that killed him," Bob assured her, standing up. Somehow, he had acquired mirrored sunglasses he hadn't had a moment before. Did he have to do this weird reality shifting shit in front of his friends? "One of the other groups did. You zapping him was just coincidental." 

"One of the other groups?" Naomi repeated, puzzled. 

"He cut a deal with the Old Ones to deliver me, but as you can tell that deal went a mite bad. They don't take kindly to those sorts of things. Or anything, actually. Bitter bunch. But if you looked like a big walking cyst, you might feel the same way." 

"That's one group," she pointed out, wincing at his cyst analogy. But if Logan remembered correctly, Bob wasn't engaging in his usual hyperbole. "Who are the others?" 

"The group whose dimension he was trying to invade. They aren't a jolly bunch either." 

"The Powers That Be?" Logan guessed. 

Naomi looked between them, stunned. "Aren't they supposed to be good guys?" 

"Don't tell the cops, but sometimes good is subjective," Bob said, glancing up at the clear azure sky. "Huh. I guess it was a nice day to die." 

Naomi gave Logan another questioning glance, but Logan was too busy scowling at Bob's profile to really notice. 

He wondered if he'd ever bother to tell him what he was. And - even if asked point blank - he wondered if Bob would ever tell him if he killed Lucifer or not. 

** 

    Helga had just picked up her cell phone when Bob appeared in the center of the living room. 

"Home sweet - shit, what's happened?" He exclaimed, seeing Amaranth standing by the couch, trying to steady Tallulah's thrashing arms. 

"Last thing we know she went to see if she could help Logan some way with the Old Ones, then she seemed to go into some kind of seizure," Helga told him, putting the phone down. Of course she wanted to just throw herself at him, and then threaten to kick his ass for scaring her so much, but that seemed secondary to Tally's problem. 

"I even tried a healing spell to get her out of it, but it didn't work," Amaranth told him, frowning at herself. She seemed to think its failure to work was somehow her fault. 

"Oh shit. Logan thought he smelled her in the tunnels leading to where they were holding me, but then he lost her. She probably came back, but not before the Old Ones did some damage." Bob went over to her and sat on the edge of the couch, and as soon as he took Tally's face in her hands, Amaranth let her arms go. If Bob couldn't fix this, poor Tallulah was completely screwed. 

"Tally," Bob said, holding her head steady. "Sweetheart, you're okay. Hear me, you're okay." 

It seemed to sink in. She stopped thrashing like she was fighting an invisible opponent trying to pin her down to the sofa, and  Helga went over and put her hand on Bob's shoulder. There were no words for how grateful she was that he was all right. 

(Oh shit, she was going soft.) 

Tally went still, and then opened her eyes. They went wide seeing Bob, and then she sat up and threw her arms around him. "Bobby! You're all right!" 

She called him Bobby?"I'm fine, thanks very much to you." He told her, patting her back reassuringly. Amaranth mouthed the word "Bobby" at him in disgust, and he just shrugged a single shoulder, seemingly saying he didn't like it either, but what could he do? 

Tallulah gave him an extra squeeze before letting him go and sitting back, running a hand through her sweaty hair. "Oh gods, it was awful.  It was like I had ticks in my brain or something. I held out as long as I could, but I lost the plot. Logan seemed to be handling it better than me." It was then she looked around the room curiously, and asked, "Where's Logan? Is he..?" 

"He's fine," he assured her. Bob reached up and covered Helga's hand with his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I decided to give him time to say goodbye to his friends in that realm. He usually doesn't get a happy ending, you know." 

Helga coughed to cover a scoff. There was a gross understatement if she had ever heard one. 

** 

    "...always dark. We thinks the Old ones put some kind of spell on the city so it was permanent night," Naomi explained. 

"So when the Old Ones died or went away, the spell was lifted?" 

"That seems to be it. Man, it was weird. It was like the ground screamed, and someone turned on the microwave for a moment. I thought I was going to roasted and pummeled at the same time." She  raised herself up on one elbow, and looked down at him curiously. "How was it for you? I still can't believe you made it." 

"Me neither. I guess I must be crazy already. How could I get crazier?" At her disapproving look, he quickly added, "Bob put something in my head, which probably protected me. But I'm still trying to figure out how that worked." He folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the white stuccoed ceiling. "I still don't get how I could have had enough power to save Bob, exactly." 

"He doesn't make a lot of sense though, does he?" 

"Bob? No." 

Bob had gone back to assure the girls everything was fine, and he'd left to clean up, as the blood on him was starting to congeal, and he didn't think it could smell worse unless he found some rotted carcass to roll in. And even then, it'd have to be pretty putrid. 

So Naomi let him borrow one of the mansion's functioning showers, but it quickly became apparent what he needed was a firehose or maybe some paint thinner - Old Ones blood seemed as sticky as rubber cement. Just before he ran through the entire hot water tank, Naomi brought him some clothes she stole from Steve's closet (he was 'roughly' his size, or at least closer than Chai at any rate). The remains of his own clothes were currently spewing up black smoke in the incinerator, and he fully supported burning them, because there was no way in hell he was putting those back on. But while she was in there, Naomi offered to do his back, although they forgot about that pretty quick. 

It brought up what he thought was an interesting point: did this count as cheating on the Logan in this dimension? 

Neither of them knew the answer to that one, but Naomi didn't really think so. "What am I going to say - I cheated on you with you? What would you say to that?" She asked. 

"Lay off the cough syrup," he admitted. 

She punched him on the shoulder, but he felt that was  warranted. 

It was strange. He loved being with Naomi again: he loved her smell, the way the electricity crawled over his skin when they touched, the way it sparked when they kissed, but there was something missing. It took him a while to figure out what it was, but it was so obvious he couldn't believe he actually had to think about -she wasn't Naomi. Well, she was, but not "his" Naomi, not the one he really knew (and missed). She was another Naomi. Feisty, sexy, beautiful, raunchy...but not the "real" one. 

Not that he was about to jump out of her bed, though. He wasn't completely insane. 

She snuggled up against him, resting her head on his chest as she stretched her arm over his abdomen. He felt the electricity tickling his skin, a mostly pleasant sensation he had missed more than he realized. 

"I suppose I oughta get out of here before your friends get back. You've got enough to explain." 

There was a message on the answering machine when they got back, from one of her cohorts, a British woman named Emma with a voice so upper crust and chilly he thought he saw ice clouds coming out of the recorder. They'd run across a nest of...something (he didn't know what she had said, but it sounded like a name with at least three excess syllables) in East L.A.  and would be back tonight at the latest. She told him Emma was a powerful telepath with a somewhat loose grasp of privacy issues, who felt verbal communication was usually beneath her. She sounded like a real party animal. 

Naomi sighed, her breath a warm caress across his skin. "I suppose. You know what Logan?" 

"What?" 

"No matter the dimension, you have the weirdest friends." 

That made him laugh, and it felt good. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed. 

But he knew she was probably right. 

    14 

    Logan didn't know how a cell phone could work between dimensions - sometimes they could barely work between cities - but Bob told him to pick up when he wanted to come back. 

He hadn't been kidding. The moment he picked it up and flipped it open, the world did its sideways twisty thing, and he was spit out on a cedar porch overlooking a sloping hill and a massive body of water. 

"How'd it go?" Bob asked. He was leaning on the porch railing, looking out at the calm blue waters of the harbor and the city beyond. He had changed into jeans and a t-shirt, but he still didn't have any shoes on. 


	7. Part 7

Logan closed the phone and handed it back to him, not so much disoriented by the dimensional jump rather than just a little dizzy. "Fine. I finally got the blood and muck off." 

"Oh good. I was afraid we were gonna have to think up a spell to get it off ya. No offense, mate, but you really stank." 

"Tell me about it." He leaned his forearms on the railing, and looked at what Bob was looking at - the rising sun, a bloodshot reddish orange disk in a tequila sunrise colored sky, with splashes of pink and dusty lavender where the horizon met the indigo sea. 

Bob glanced at him. "Nice duds." 

"Borrowed," he grumbled. He was forced to settle for a red t-shirt and olive green cargo pants that were a little on the baggy side. Not his usual taste, but it was either that or a kilt, and that sounded way too breezy. 

"You're jacket's in the living room." Bob offered. 

"My jacket got burned." 

"This is a clone," he replied, smiling. 

He grunted, looking back out at the placid sea. "Thanks." 

"Knew you liked it." 

"How is everybody?" 

"Oh, fine. Tally's trying to pick a mutant name for herself. She rejected Ammy's suggestion of Casper, and thinks Daydreamer is pretty." 

"What does it mean?" 

"Well, see, that's the problem." 

"A good name is hard to come by." He noted. After a pause, he asked, "How could you store enough power in my brain to destroy the Old Ones?I mean, if you had that kind of power in the first place, why not keep it? You could have defeated the Old Ones the moment they tried to grab you." 

Bob stared at some nowhere point in the ocean, and thought for a moment he wasn't going to answer him, but finally he said, with a crooked grin, "I learned something interesting on Dis. My power, filtered through your anger, taps some kind of adrenaline vein, amps it up." 

Logan considered the possiblity he was bullshitting him again. "Meaning what exactly?" 

"Alone, I could change reality. Together, we could destroy the world."He turned his full wattage grin on him, dazzling with its intensity. "Nice to know in case we have to, huh?" 

Logan stared at him. "You're shitting me." 

Bob shook his head, looking back out at the skyscrapers of Sydney. Logan thought he could see the weird Bishop's hat of the Sydney Opera House from here too. Bob really did have a great view. He wondered if he warped reality to have it. "Nope. It's like chemistry: together we're an apparently volitile combination.  Acid and alkaline. To be honest, I needed you to help me get these fuckers." 

Logan studied his profile carefully, trying to determine his veracity. "Are you serious?Why the hell would that be?" 

"Almost all Humans have vestigial psychic powers - this is especially true of mutants - but they usually never develop. What I figure is this: it's a damn good thing your psychic powers never developed. 'Cause while Jean is an impressive telekinetic, you'd make her look like an anemic non-mutant accountant from Teaneck, New Jersey." 

He continued to stare at him. "You're making this up." He didn't actually know if he was or wasn't, but Logan wanted to believe that. 

Bob shook his head, hair flopping in his eyes. There was some brown in it again. "Nope. You've got a deactivated time bomb in your frontal lobe. You can't tell me that's a great shock." 

Logan was forced to shrug. "Well, no...but I figured I was a different kinda time bomb." 

Bob patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you're still that too." 

Logan gave him a death stare, but as usual that just made Bob grin. "You didn't activate it, did you?" 

"Can you break stuff with your mind?" 

Logan tried, concentrating on Bob's arm. Nothing happened, except he felt like an ass. "No." 

"There you go. The right genetic sequence would've had to been activated in utero, mate. It can't be flicked on now, 'cause it never properly developed." 

Logan was sure Bob could fix that if he really wanted to,  but he was glad he didn't. He had enough problems. 

"I bet it was weird seein' Naomi again," Bob said, and this was a subject change Logan didn't want to get into. And Bob probably knew that, the bastard. 

He just grunted noncommitally. "How come there wasn't a twin for you or Lucifer in the other dimension?" 

Bob knew he was avoiding the subject, but he played along. "We're uni-dimensional beings with pan-dimensional abilities." 

"Huh?" 

"We only exist officially in one, but we can travel between them. Or could, in Lucy's case." 

"You killed him, didn't you?" 

Bob looked at him, smiling. "Tell me about Naomi." 

Logan glowered at him. "You're a royal dick sometimes." 

"Takes one to know one." 

Logan could only shrug. He may have had a point. Looking out at the light show the sun was putting on, illuminating the sky like a Salvador Dali fever dream,the florid colors melting together like sherbet in a bowl,he asked, "How long have I been gone?" 

"A couple hours." 

"No, I meant since I went into that dimension and now." 

"Couple hours, like I said. Time runs differently -" 

"- in different dimensions," Logan interrupted, finishing the sentence for him.  He couldn't believe it - he was sure he was in the other place for at least an entire day. Oh, but why the hell not? 

"If you wanna stay on, I'm having some of the family over for a barbecue tonight. I got a great grand daughter who'd love you. Loser of the limbo contest has to clean up." 

"Limbo contest?" 

"Yep. Bar's in the kitchen." 

Logan almost asked, but decided he didn't want to know. Still, he wondered, "Do you ever clean up?" 

"Nope." 

Yeah, that figured.  "Well, as fascinatin' as that sounds, I guess I better get back. And if my bike's missing, Amaranth's conjuring me up a new one." 

"Done. Is that where you want to go? Back to New York?" 

Logan looked back out at the spectacular sunrise, and said, "Give me a minute." 

He briefly thought about suggesting Bob send him to hell, but Logan had a feeling he'd been there already. Several times. 

** 

    It was not hard to spot the jet. 

He'd picked a good spot to land it, to be fair - an old processing plant that had been closed down, the buildings and near by warehouses arranged in a ring beside the waterfront, leaving a wide courtyard that would hide anything from open view (although, if you looked through the buildings..). Still, it could all be explained away as some American military thing, as much as they were generally viewed with suspicion. 

Logan stood and the shadows and waited, amazed he was back in Japan and had yet to fall apart. He was still having heart palpitations, but he figured that would pass in time. 

Scott came down the ramp by himself, and he was surprised that Xavier sent him by himself. But maybe 'Clops said he could take care if it by himself. "Wondered when you get here," Logan said, venturing out of the shadows. 

Scott jumped, obviously startled. He hadn't seen him or expected. "Logan?W-what at are you doing here?I thought you told the Professor you wouldn't do this." 

He shrugged, glancing at the gulls overhead. Scared off by the jet, they were no returning en masse; screeching flying rats. "I was in the area, so I figured what the hell." 

Scott looked as dubious as possible with his eyes hidden behind the visor. "How did you get...weird friends?" 

Logan simply nodded, and Scott accepted that with a nod of his own. 

"You live to sneak up on me, don't you?" Scott accused, swinging his black canvas jacket off his shoulders and shrugging it on. It was only partially overcast, but, unlike Sydney, unseasonably cold. 

"I couldn't get any joy out of somethin' so easy," he replied dryly. 

Scott frowned at him, wrinkling his nose like he smelled something bad.  "Very funny. Do you have any idea where we're going?" 

"No. Xavier didn't get that far." 

"Well then, I guess you'll just have to follow me." He gave him a triumphant smile, flashing his perfect white teeth. 

"Uh, if you intend to smile around others, don't show the teeth. The Japanese find that offensive." 

Scott's J. Crew smile and smugness seemed to falter. "Really?You're making that up." 

He shook his head. "Nope. Don't believe me, try it. But I ain't helpin' you out in the subsequent fight." 

Scott cocked his head to the side, studying him, and his hair barely shifted. How much product did he use exactly? "Why do they find it offensive?" 

Logan shrugged. "Got me. Maybe it's related to their general distaste of effusive emotional displays." 

Scott seemed to consider that a moment, as  the damn seagulls got braver. "How long did you live in Japan?" 

"How the hell am I supposed to know?Look, it's like the thing with the jet. I don't know how I know, I just do." 

Scott suddenly grinned, and pretended to scratch his face to hide a laugh. "What?" Logan snapped. 

"Like "Rainman"?" Scott asked, chuckling. 

Logan shook his head and started walking away. "Fuck you, Summers. Go get your own translator." 

"Oh, don't be that way. Come on, I was only joking. What happened to your Asian philosophy of no emotional displays?" 

Logan spun on his heels to glare at him, making Scott stop short. "I never said anything about adopting a philosophy, dumb ass. I just said watch it." 

Scott threw up his hands like he was being the difficult one, and said, "Fine. Is there anything else I should know before I spark an international incident?" 

"They ain't fond of physical contact and they like their space, and too much eye contact is bad, but obviously not a problem in your case since a visor doesn't count.  And don't point. But don't worry about it; you're gaijin and they'll expect you to be a rude, oafish animal." 

"Hey! Who's the one who calls himself after an animal here?" 

"No, I don't. Someone gave me that nickname, 'Clops." Scott frowned at that, but Logan knew suddenly he made a mistake. He should have known Scott would come alone. "Look, who the fuck are we after?" 

He earned another scowl for using a dirty word, but Scott pulled a print out from his coat pocket, and unfolded it so carefully Logan wondered if he was afraid of paper cuts. "The Professor was able to discern this mutant event was tied to a sixteen year old girl named Nariko Hatae. We found an address, but he was unable to get the nature of the event, except it was huge." 

Nariko - for a moment he thought he said Mariko. "Huge in energy expenditure or huge in violent?" 

Scott grimaced. "Both." 

He wondered if she vaporized herself or someone else, but didn't say it. "Got an address?" 

"Yeah. I'm actually glad you're here, because maybe you can interpret it." 

He handed him the print out, and as he took it, he warned him, "I don't know. I can't remember ever being in Japan."  
But as soon as Logan glanced at the paper, it was amazing the information he suddenly knew. "Dori means street or avenue, so Meiji Dori is her street. Shit, that's near the Shinjuku Imperial Gardens, isn't it?" 

"I hope you're not asking me." Scott admitted. 

"I actually think I can find this," he said, feeling stunned. "Hey, this isn't too far from Kabukicho." 

"What's that?" 

" 'Sin city'. The seediest part of Tokyo, full of brothels - they call 'em 'soaplands' here - bars where you can buy anything from the black market and 'love hotels', these special places for people seeking quickies only. Fun place." 

"It figures you'd know that," Scott said disparagingly. 

"It may not be a coincidence," he pointed out, giving Scott a dirty look for that comment. How did he know that, though? Just the name of the place seemed familiar somehow... 

Scott seemed to take him seriously for once. "I don't know what you mean." 

"What if she knows what she can do? What if she did it on purpose?" 

"Are you suggesting she's some kind of mutant for hire? At sixteen?" 

"You think there's an age limit for exploitation?" 

Scott winced. The Boy Scout really needed to wake up to the darker side of the world.  "Shit," he cursed under his breath. 

"C'mon, we'll check out her house first. Did Xavier know exactly where this thing occurred?" 

Scott shook his head. "He caught the tail end of it. He felt lucky to catch what he did." 

"She dropped off the radar that fast?" Scott confirmed that with a nod. "Could she be dead?" 

"He doesn't think so. He thinks she may have a natural ability to shield her own mind." 

"So she's a psychic mutant?" 

Scott shrugged, and Logan figured twenty questions was done. They'd just have to find the girl or someone who knew her and find out for themselves. 

And hope they weren't too late. 

    15 

    In retrospect, there was no way the interview could have gone well. 

What was Nariko's mother going to say when two extremely strange looking gaijins showed up at her door, asking about her teenage daughter? 

They were probably just lucky the Japanese were knee jerk polite (for the most part), otherwise the woman probably would have threatened them with a shotgun. 

Logan got little out of her, except the woman was extremely upset, and not just because of the weird white guys on her door step. Nariko had been missing for days, apparently, but he also got the idea that wasn't unwelcome; what was unwelcome were all these people bothering her about her wayward daughter. So it could be a runaway situation. Or Nariko was actually kidnapped, but her mother didn't know it (and possibly didn't much care). 

That made Kabukicho the natural place to check out next - in spite of Scott's protestations (what, did he think he could catch crabs just by walking down the street?) - because teenagers needing money (or a fix) always drifted down to places like this, like rocks tumbling down to the bottom of a hill. 

Logan had hoped he'd recognize something, that the Kabukicho would be familiar somehow, but of course it wasn't. It was only familiar in that way that all the seedier sides of big cities were roughly the same: decaying buildings dressed up with gaudy cosmetic splashes of neon that had the same effect of putting layers of cake make up on rotting corpse - it accentuated the problem it was trying to hide. 

The difference was most of the shady characters loitering in the shadows of these buildings were simply drug dealers; most of the hookers did their work inside the soaplands, with a few desperate independents hanging around the loud pink doorways of the love hotels. The entire area reeked of sadness and desperation, which was familiar only in the sense that it smelled like every downtown area he'd ever been in. 

Scott seemed tense enough to jump out of his visor, but Logan ignored him. Part of the big bad world was places like this, and he may as well get used to it. 

Logan started looking around for what may have been a good information nexus. There were the bars, of course, but a teenage girl might not go in there. He needed to find a more neutral area, one where all might gather for black market deals. 

There were very few gaijins around, but when he saw them he instantly avoided the places. They were most likely businessmen after some cheap sex, as most black marketeering gaijin would probably not risk showing their face in daylight. 

He found what looked like a good place, between a strip club and a love hotel, a sushi bar that had no advertisement whatsoever; it was just a lowly wooden framed building, squatting toad like in the neon shadows, like an architectural afterthought. 

Scott was looking around and yet trying not to do it overtly, and yet it was driving Logan crazy. He had to suppress the urge to hit him - he always had to suppress the urge to hit him - but it was really difficult. 

The moment they walked in the sushi place, all the customers in there openly stared at them, and he took that as a good sign, at least as far as the food was concerned. 

It was as anonymous inside as it was outside, all dark wood and bamboo, and he took a seat at the bar, Scott reluctantly following along. "What are we doing here?" He wondered, looking around at the half dozen diners who continued to stare at them. 

"I'm hungry," he admitted. "Want anything?" Of course that was only part of the reason, but why spoil the fun now? 

A young girl - probably the restaurant owner's daughter - appeared to take their orders, her look openly astonished. Obviously they didn't get a lot of gaijins in here. "Don't worry, I speak the language," he told her in Japanese. Her delicate eyebrows raised in surprise, but she seemed relieved. 

"Uh, aren't we supposed to be looking for the girl, not having lunch?" Scott said. 

"Well, we could go to the strip club next door," he suggested. As expected, he got a dirty scowl for that. 

He ordered some sushi and sake, with a cup of 'Americanized' (meaning really sweet) green tea for Scott, and as soon as the girl left, Logan told him, in English, "I think this might be the place where the more subtler black marketers hang out. Sometimes loitering around a bar is just askin' for it, especially if there's a territorial war goin' on." 

"I'm glad you're around to keep me updated on the seedier side of things." Scott noted sarcastically. 

"Your welcome," he replied. 

It didn't take long for the girl to come back. The one good thing about sushi was there was no cooking required. She was a rather plain looking girl, with her long black hair held back by black lacquered chopsticks, but there was a sort of worldliness in her hazel eyes that made him think that, despite her age, she was no innocent. 

After she put the small porcelain cup of green tea in front of Scott, he looked down at it like it was a poisonous snake about to strike. "What did you order for me?" 

"Green tea. It's good for ya. Just drink it." 

Scott grimaced, either not trusting him or the place (or both).  He ignored him, though, as he was honestly hungry. Maybe he was only gone several hours in this dimension, but it felt like a day to his stomach. 

To his surprise, he had absolutely no trouble using the chopsticks, he liked sushi, and the warm sake wasn't bad either. Of all of it, the sake was the most familiar (figures - alcohol). 

Scott, who hadn't dared to touch his tea, said, "You know what the weirdest thing about all of this is?You seem almost comfortable here." 

He looked at him askance as he reached for his sake. "What do you mean?" 

"You act uncomfortable everywhere, Logan. Like you've just stumbled into wherever you are, and as soon as you spy the exit you're outta there. Even at the mansion, still, which is frankly starting to get on my nerves. But right now you seem sort of relaxed...well, for you." 

He couldn't decide if that was a compliment, an insult, or just an observation. Probably all at once. "I used to live here." 

"Do you remember any of it? Besides the language." He almost sounded interested. 

Logan could only shake his head. "No." 

"But you seemed to remember the streets," Scott pointed out. It sounded like the Boy Scout was trying to be encouraging, which was weird. What the fuck did he care? 

"I didn't. I knew which way we were supposed to head when we got to certain points...but there was no context. It was like remembering parts of a road map I studied a long time ago, somewhere else. I can logically take you point to to point - from here to the Ginza, from there to  the airport, from there to the Imperial Palace - but it means absolutely nothing to me." 

And maybe that was the worst part of this. Logan felt he had finally learned something he had never wanted to learn.  
He had learned that loss and grief had a shape, had their own special topography, and part of coming to terms with it was learning to navigate in the new surroundings. And when whoever - Lethe, the Organization, who knows how many telepaths and/or demons - took his memory, they took a big chunk of that, most of it, but not all. So he was left with the shapeless, nameless grief, an open wound he didn't know  the nature of and couldn't begin to heal. 

He knew some of the facts now, but in abstract: what basically happened, the name of the person he lost, her grave, her photograph, a list of personal statics that were the dry and bloodless way of describing a person as they looked or seemed, but not as they were. So the wound could be classified by type, the topography could shade itself in with ghostly outlines, but the ghost still remained faceless, and the wound still seemed gaping and fresh. 

Now he had remembered her face on his own, or maybe with a lot of help from Bob, he didn't know and didn't suppose it mattered much either way. If this thing was ever going to start to close he was going to have to remember more - how could you even begin to recover from a great loss when you weren't completely sure what it was you lost?And it wasn't only Mariko, although she was the one who blasted the hole in his soul that hadn't closed, and probably never would: when they took his memory, they left another shapeless, mysterious wound. But there was a loss he'd probably never be able to quantify, one he'd never be able to  sort into a category and slap with a comforting label. How did you categorize and measure the loss of an entire life? 

Mariko had been a part of that. But her loss bit so deep that even taking away the memories didn't rid of him of her ghost, or the pain left behind, even if he never had a name to put to it until now. 

He felt like telling Scott: "I'm comfortable because I died here. And only a part of me ever got back up again." But he didn't, because he'd never say that to him, or to anyone. 

"None of this seems familiar at all?" Scott said, and he sounded disappointed. 

Logan just shook his head, and wondered, "Hoping I'll move here?" 

Scott sighed and shook his head. But after a minute, he admitted, "Wouldn't bother me." 

He grunted in amusement. At least he admitted it. 

Warily, he attempted to taste the green tea, but after a sip he made a noise of disgust and put it down. Scott glanced around at all the people still staring at them (Logan could feel their eyes, that annoying continual itch between his shoulder blades, but all the hostility was veiled : no one here was about to act on it), and as he turned back to look over the bar, he asked, "Does anyone here speak English?" 

"I doubt it." 

He paused briefly, then asked, in a quiet voice:"Have you slept with Jean?" 

Logan almost choked on his sashimi. He forced the food down the right pipe with a cough and a slap on his chest, and then looked at One Eye incredulously. "If I had, do you think she'd still be with you?" 

Scott sat back on his stool, his responding smile forced and edged with hostility. "Aren't we full of ourselves?" 

"We've never had any complaints." 

"That you remember." 

"Ha." He supposed he should have been angry, but he wasn't. He actually felt kind of bad for the kid, which he instantly hated. "What, you don't trust her now?" 

"Her I trust. But not you." 

A flippant answer, and a convenient one, but Logan didn't care what was behind it. 

But, damn it, Scott just kept on talking. "Does she ever talk to you?" 

"Jeanie? About school shit, nothing else." He refused to ask why. 

But Scott wasn't taking subtle hints of disinterest, or was ignoring them. "There's something wrong lately, and I don't know what it is." 

"So instantly you blame me." 

"Well, everything was fine before you showed up." 

Logan had to bite back a "Well, if she was happy with you, there never would've been any problem", not because he wanted to spare his feelings or because it was needlessly bitchy, but because he really didn't care. He really didn't want to hear about the domestic life of Saint Jean and Scott the Wonder Pony.  "Ain't that convenient?" Logan finally decided to say. "You only blame me 'cause you hate me." 'And she doesn't,' he thought, but didn't say. 

"Hate is a strong word," Scott countered. "More like dislike." 

"Kill me with semantics." 

"Would that do it?" He replied with sarcastic cheerfulness. Logan didn't even bother to respond to that. 

The silence was thick, even thicker than the scent of alcohol soaked sweat and the smell of freshly killed fish in this tiny little sushi shack, so finally Logan said, "Look, if you think somethin's wrong, talk to her, not me." 

"But that's part of the problem," he replied. "I've never had to talk to her about anything. She just knew." 

"She's a telepath, not Bob. You're probably gonna have to flap your jaws every now and then." 

"Man, you are poetic." 

Logan flashed him his middle finger as he used his chopsticks to chase a last bit of red tuna around his small black tray. Scott just shook his head and looked away, continuing to pointlessly scan the shack for any hostiles, or perhaps a mutant teenage girl with a big unicorn horn sprouting from her forehead. Finally, he said, "Maybe the dreams have freaked her out." 

He wasn't going to ask. He didn't care. 

Scott continued anyways. "Ever since I got back from...those people," - had to mean the Organization - " I've been dreaming about when my powers first manifested themselves. I mean, I shared the story with Jean, but never the exact thought." 

Logan wondered if he could bang his head on the bar without breaking it in two. No, probably not, and he didn't have the cash on him to pay for it. 

He hoped Scott would take his silence for what it was - sheer disinterest - but he was no good at taking hints. No wonder Jean's patience was wearing thin. "Maybe it was the being strapped down part. Maybe that reminds me of my capture." 

Okay, now he had to ask. "Strapped down?" Anything that ended up with the Boy Scout being strapped down - -preferably to a bed of red hot nails - had to be worth it. 

Only now did Scott get reticent, look down into his cup of green tea as if searching for drowning sailors. "It just ...happened. I had normal eyes, and then...then suddenly I brought a whole building down. Nobody knew what happened, except for me. I remembered this energy coming out of my eyes, my vision going completely red, and then I started regaining consciousness as the EMT's loaded me in the back of an ambulance. I panicked - I didn't know what had happened exactly, but I knew I was dangerous, so when one tried to open my eyelid to look at my pupil I fought her. I tried to tell them I couldn't open my eyes and they couldn't either,  but maybe I got a little... animated. One of them stuck me with a sedative, and I have a vague memory of collapsing by the time we were at the hospital. I still kept screaming at them not to open my eyes, but a couple of burly guys wrestled me down to a gurney, and they strapped my arms and legs down. I remember somebody shouting for a psych consult - they thought I was crazy. I knew I was hysterical, so I tried to plead with the doctor, begged him just to do a CT or whatever, just don't make my open my eyes. But he did. He pried one of my eyelids open. And the e.r. got a new sunroof. While he..." 

When Scott didn't seem forthcoming, he guessed, "You killed him?" 

Scott shook his head. "Might as well have. Fractured his skull,and he broke his spine when he hit the wall.  
He lived, but I think he's little more than a vegetable." 

Logan shrugged. Maybe the Boy Scout did have a moment or two of uncleanliness in his life.  "Not your fault. You warned them." 

"Easy for you to say." 

"Did you hit him on purpose?" 

"No." 

"Then it ain't your fault. Accidents happen." 

Scott seemed to brood at that, looking down at his cooling, clouding tea. "That's what Xavier told me when he showed up at the hospital. The staff didn't know what to do with me - it wasn't like they knew what my problem was - but they were happy to stick me in a room far from all the other patients, with my eyes taped down so I couldn't open them." 

"They taped down your eyes?" 

"I asked them to." 

"What'd your parents think of this?" 

He shrugged, looking around again, as if there was something utterly fascinating in the direction of the men's room. "They were dead. I was a ward of the state at the time. Foster homes, you know; no living relatives willing to take me." 

No, he didn't know. And Logan was surprised, because usually former foster kids were less uptight and more freewheeling than Mister 'Elephant sized stick up his ass'. Weird. "I bet the state didn't want to know you then." 

Scott actually chuckled faintly. "A kid with uncontrollable death rays coming from his eyes? No, not really. That's why when Xavier showed up, they were more than happy to play ball with him, as long as he'd get me off their hands." 

And that probably explained Scott's unwavering devotion to the old guy - saved his bacon. Good enough reason as any. "I told Jean about most of it," he continued, sounding anguished. "But...some of the details I...skimmed over. Maybe she thinks I lied to her." 

Logan figured he'd have to admit what happened to the doctor - Scott was far too guilt ridden to leave that out - but maybe he omitted having such a big ass psychotic freak out the staff thought he was on angel dust. Not that he could blame him exactly, but it was funny, in a really pathetic sort of way. "Oh, come on. Everybody lies. We have to. If people were always honest with each other, there'd be a hell of a lot more murders, and a lot less fucking." 

Scott stared at him (well, from what he could tell) for a long moment. "Wow. That is the most cynical thing I've ever heard in my life." 

"Hold on to your visor, I've got more." 

"Thanks, but that'll do for the day." 

Logan shook his head. "Wuss." He'd been looking around for  the girl - hoping for a little small talk while getting a refill on the sake to break the ice - and he saw her in the far corner. She was being quietly cussed out by a ferret-y looking Japanese man, who was holding her wrist with a vise like grip. He was speaking rapid fire Japanese, but Logan was able to discern he was angry about the quality of the 'package'. She kept telling him to take it up with her father, but he was content to threaten and hurt her. 

He got up from his stool and sauntered over to where this little tableau was happening, much to the learned obliviousness of the other patrons. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to hurt a girl?" Logan asked, in Japanese. "Or did you just crawl out of the sewer fully formed?" 

The man glared at him, and spat back, in Japanese, "This is none of your business, white boy. Leave us alone." 

"Leave the girl alone." Logan  replied coolly, glaring at the man. He was hoping the guy would want to take it outside, as he could use the fun, and nothing would endear him to the girl more than turning this bully into steak tartar. 

He felt Scott looming beyond his shoulder, probably interested in intervening only due to the fact that the guy was manhandling a woman. Scott was hardly intimidating, but the guy got the idea it was now two against one, and he didn't like the odds. 

He let her go, and snarled, "You'll be sorry, foreigner." 

"If I see you again, you won't have time to regret being born, asshole." Logan snapped back. Not the best as threats went, but it only had to impress the girl. Not that he wouldn't gladly kick this man's ass, he just didn't think it would be much of a challenge, even if his hands were tied behind his back and he was blindfolded. (He'd smell that man's bad aftershave a half mile away.) 

The man glared daggers at them as he left the sushi shack, and Scott asked, "What was that about?" 

"Thank you," the girl (the man called her Kyoko) said, rubbing her sore wrist. 

"What the hell was that bastard's problem?" He asked, wondering if she'd tell him. 


	8. Part 8

She studied his face a moment, and gave him a demure smile, her dark eyes glancing down at the floor as she turned away and returned to her usual station behind the bar. "He just had a problem with my father." 

As he went back to his stool, Logan told Scott quietly, "This place sells more than raw fish. One of the customers had a bug up his butt about some merchandise." 

"What kind of merchandise?" Scott asked warily. 

Logan figured it was drugs, but he knew Scott would want to shut it down if he knew, which would not endear them to the girl. So he lied. "I don't know. Want to make some guesses?" 

Scott gave him one of the menu of his sour frowns as they both took their seats at the bar. 

Kyoko came down to where they were, and asked Logan, "Another cup?" She was referring to the sake. He nodded, and as she filled it up, she asked, "Are you here on vacation?" 

"Business." 

She nodded, then asked, after a surreptitious glance at Scott, "What's with your friends' glasses? Are those virtual reality gear?" 

That almost made him laugh. "Yeah, somethin' like that. He's a big geek." 

She giggled, and he flashed her his best smile, which she returned shyly, her eyes showing a bit of interest. He had her. "What kind of business do you do?" 

"Various things. Right now we're looking for a girl." 

Her face seemed to fall. "There's places-" 

"That's not what I mean," he quickly interrupted. "A specific girl..." He had to carefully choose his words here. The Japanese word for mutants was a slur, and he didn't want any sense of hostility getting across, inadvertent or not. He remembered some Japanese mutant activists using the word 'special' instead, so that's what he used. "...special. Her name's Nariko." 

Recognition flashed through her eyes before her natural wary mask slammed back down into place. Terrific; she knew the girl. "Why are you looking for her?" Kyoko asked, feigning disinterest. She pulled a cloth from the pocket of her waitress apron and began cleaning up an imaginary mess on the bar, just to the south of his tray. 

"I work for a man who likes to hire specials," he told her, pulling out one of Xavier's cards. Noting it was all in English, he asked Scott, "Gotta pen?" 

"Yeah." He didn't even have to search his pockets; he pulled a Bic out of breast pocket and handed it to him. He was an amazing dork. 

As he scribbled Japanese numbers on the back of the card, he told her, "He'd fly her to New York just to talk to her. No strings attached." 

When he glanced up and looked at her, the surprise was obvious on his face. "There has to be a catch." 

He shook his head. "I thought so too, but no. He's just an old rich special who likes to aid his fellow specials." 

Her delicate eyebrows arched in shock, and she stopped pretending to clean up. "Are you a..." 

He simply nodded. It could be a bad gamble, but there was something about the way she was suddenly acting so cool, something about the way her muscles tensed and her shoulders became rigid when he said the name Nariko, the way he suddenly smelled fear coming from her like cider vinegar...he hadn't smelled a man at Nariko's mother's house, had he? She had lived alone - save for a canary - for a long time. 

She studied his face for a long time, then glanced at the card and muttered, "Just a moment." 

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Scott asked, "Was she flirting with you? What the hell is it with you and women?" 

"Part of my mutation is I have twice as much testosterone as a normal guy, so I put out more pheromones. Women pick up on that." 

"Is that true?" 

He let him stew for a moment before he admitted, "No, I just made it up. But I had you goin' for a minute, didn't I?" 

Scott made a noise of disgust. "You are such an asshole." After a pause, he admitted, "I have to use that sometime." 

"Good luck." 

"Does that girl know Nariko?" 

"Better than that. I think she is Nariko, using her middle name." 

"How do you know her middle name?" 

"I don't. I'm guessin'." 

They heard raised voices from the kitchen, and Logan knew the father didn't want her to leave her shift early, but she snapped that Yamamoto (must have been the ferret-y guy) had just shown up in a snit, and she had no intention of sticking around and waiting for him to come back with his "thugs". 

(There was a big, long story here. But Logan knew from bitter experience that getting involved in black market wars could only end in heartbreak. There were no winners, just losers and survivors.) 

"What's going on?" Scott asked, hearing the shouting but not understanding it. 

"She's leaving early. I think we got her." He quickly dug some cash out of his coat pocket, only to discover he only had American currency, and a few Canadian dollars. But he left an American ten dollar bill on the bar. With the exchange rate, this more than paid for the meal. 

"You got her," Scott noted, sounding embarrassed. "But it was just luck you came into this place." 

He grunted an acknowledgment. "True enough." 

Kyoko/Nariko came out of the kitchen, pulling on a red vinyl jacket. Her waitress apron was gone, and she wore nothing more than a white flower pattern peasant blouse, a short black pencil skirt, and tie dyed sneakers that marked her as an occasional club kid. She was probably trying to look older, but she actually ended up looking like a little girl playing dress up. 

"Let's go somewhere else and talk," she said, pulling her hair out of the collar of her jacket. "But if you're a bunch of perverts - " 

"I assure you, Nariko, we're on the level." 

She appeared shocked that he knew, and was about to deny it, but then her shoulders sagged. "How long have you known?" 

"Couple of minutes." 

"Where are we going?" Scott asked, standing up. 

Logan shrugged. "Probably nowhere. She just wants us to convince her we're on the level. I'm gettin' the idea she wants to get out of this life; we showed up at a great time." 

"Xavier's known for his timing," Scott pointed out. 

As they left the sushi shack, Nariko leading the way out, Logan had to agree. He did have a knack for sending his people out at the right time. 

And as much as Logan hated thinking of himself as one of Xavier's 'people', he was glad he ultimately decided to come. 

Maybe he couldn't go back in time and save Mariko. But he could do his best to save others from her fate. 

And his. 

The End 


End file.
